Chasing Rainbows
by xX-Misty
Summary: Gene and Alex believe they finally have a plan to take Keats' power away, but while Keats is busy destroying someone else's life and Alex's faltering health leaves her torn between worlds can they succeed before the stars come out to play?
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note: This is the sequel to Something Changed (and kind of to Dead Man Walking too, which ran in parallel for some time). **_

_**Brief recap: With Keats back in 1996 after a short spell running riot in Arthur Layton's body in 2011 he's struggling with some of the more human emotions he's brought back with him. He's also struggling with some things he learnt in 2011 especially discovering that he is related to… someone (the answer, if you haven't read it, is tucked away in chapter 21 of Dead Man Walking, entitled "Dads, Destiny & Dead Watches")**_

_**Gene and Alex hit upon their ultimate plan to take away Keats's power – to get him demoted in an official capacity so that he loses his soul-stealing ability and his invincibility giving them an opportunity to finally get rid of him, but they still need to find a way to strip him of his DCI title.**_

_**Meanwhile Simon's downward spiral into depression, drink and tranquilisers continues, Shaz is about to start working for Fenchurch East after being saved from her mid-90s screwdriver-murder by Alex and Kim has finally found happiness after falling in love with Shaz…**_

_**Usual disclaimers apply, I don't own A2A. Just borrowing it to keep me sane! Also, this story will be very dark in places and the rating will change from T to M at some point. Also, some months ago I did hours of extensive music research of the charts in 1996 for this story (I have used a little artistic license and used ones from later on in the year too!)so watch out for that! I hope you enjoy the story! -x-**_

**~xXx~**

**Prologue**

Alex gripped the sides of the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. There were dark circles around her eyes and her face looked paler than a polar bear who'd just been freshly whitewashed. She swallowed hard, trying to hold back another wave. _Breathe deeply, Alex,_ she told herself. _One breath, two breaths, three… _

The feeling was dying now. She closed her eyes and carried on breathing in deeply. _Almost there,_ she thought. _Almost got it under control._

"_Bolly! Would be nice to get to work this side of the millennium."_

She closed her eyes and groaned. That's what she needed that morning, Gene's driving. She gathered herself together and began to call out to him,

"_I'm just co-"_ but that was as far as she got before the nausea overpowered her again and another wave crashed into the sink like a tidal wave.

"_Drake, what are you doing in there?"_ Gene called out, starting to sound exasperated, "_How much make up d'you need? You entering a beauty contest? Looking for world peace, literacy and free conkers for all?"_

Alex panted heavily as she hung over the sink, hoping that was the end of it. Her stomach hurt from the retching, her throat was raw and she felt wretched and exhausted. Turning on the taps, she swilled it around and tried to clean up the mess as best as she could then tried to tidy herself up a little too. She splashed her face with cold water, swilled her mouth around with mouthwash and quickly put on a little lipstick. When she looked at her reflection it looked no better than the last time she'd stared in the mirror but it would have to do. At least her stomach had stopped rolling now.

"_I'm coming,"_ she called out, slightly unnecessarily as she opened the bathroom door and joined Gene in the lounge.

"Bloody hell, Bols, there'll be no crime today, you'll scare the crooks into hiding," Gene commented.

Alex looked down.

"Let's just get to work, shall we," she sighed.

She'd been feeling off for some time now. It had been about a month… maybe more. It started with tiredness, a general feeling of being run down or under-par. At the time she'd thought it was the stress of Shaz arriving back on the scene. Then her appetite seemed to die, but she thought that was from the worry of Keats waking up. Since then a couple of weeks had passed in which she'd felt no better. She started downing vitamins like they were sweets to try to get some energy back but it didn't seem to do any good, and now stomach issues appeared to have emerged on top of everything else. She was falling apart.

She tried to hide how she was feeling from Gene, she knew the conclusions he would jump to. Ever since the day she faded out and back, if she so much as sneezed he started to panic that she was going to wake up in 2011. She did her best to avoid his eye every time he commented that she was looking peaky and changed the subject quickly.

But there had been things that worried her. Things she was keeping from Gene. It was bad enough that she was worried, the last thing she needed was for _him_ to be on high alert too. The occasional voice filtering through, the bleep of a machine, dreams of home – all the things that had stopped for months, ever since she had made the decision to stay with Gene over going back to Molly.

Why were they starting now? She wanted to stay, she knew that. She wasn't fighting to go home, but she felt as though her presence in 1996 was starting to fade and weaken. Something wasn't right and she couldn't explain it.

But at the same time, it didn't feel like before. She didn't feel the same. This was… _different._ She wished she could put her finger on it, then maybe she could stop it from happening.

"Can we just get to work?" she asked quietly.

"Not yet," said Gene, "emergency stop to Latte Land first. Getting a black coffee into you. Wake you up a bit."

Alex felt her stomach churning again at the thought of trying to drink a black coffee and swallowed back a wave of nausea.

"Do you mind if I don't?" she asked weakly but Gene was already too far ahead to hear. With a sigh she followed him and reluctantly climbed into the car. If she made the journey without an environmental disaster then it was going to be nothing short of a miracle.

~xXx~

No sooner had Kim arrived in CID than the phone rang. She answered it while trying to shrug off her coat.

"Hello?" she listened for a moment, her face growing anxious, "….oh bloody hell. No, they're not here yet." She listened again and peered out into the car park to look for Gene's car. "I don't think so anyway." She listened some more. "He's not here either," she said. She closed her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do for the best. "Alright," she said, gathering her strength together, "Alright, _I'll_ go. I'll be there in ten minutes. tell them not to do anything until I get there."

She threw down the receiver and reversed her jacket-removal.

"It's going to be one of those days," she muttered as she started to run from the building.

She rushed down to the car park and climbed into the car she'd bought just a week or so earlier. It was about time she had a set of wheels, she'd thought. So urgent had the call been that all her focus went on getting to the scene of the crime. She didn't notice anything else going on, not the car that was following her – the car that was _always_ following her – nor the billboard that changed to '_WAKE UP' _as she passed it. She didn't notice the man that had been tailing her for the last two weeks; watching, brooding, sulking and planning. Nor did she notice that the _'WAIT'_ message at the pedestrian crossing was now saying '_WAKE'._

She didn't notice the Give Way sign changing to _WAKE UP._

She didn't notice the sign above the doors of Sainsbury's changing to _'SHE'S COMING ROUND'. _

She didn't notice the Boo Radleys' _Wake Up Boo_ blasting out of the car radio as she drove.

All she focused upon was getting there, before anyone got hurt.

The day felt heavy and something was in the air.

It had only just begun.


	2. Chapter 1: Don't Dream It's Over

**Chapter 1**

Kim pulled up with a squeal of tyres and climbed from the car as fast as she could. She walked with haste towards the crowd that were gathering outside of the shiny building. Towers of glass and steel stood all around but between them was a very human situation.

She crossed to a uniformed officer who was trying to hold back the crowd.

"Excuse me," she said, "who's in charge here?"

"Well no one really," the officer said, "isn't that what _you're_ here for?"

Kim put her hands in her pockets, rolled her eyes and sighed. She walked slowly around in a circle and crossed to a more senior officer who seemed to be directing things.

"Excuse me," she said. She pulled her ID from her pocket and showed him, "I'm DS Stringer, you called CID?"

The officer looked at her a little incredulously.

"We were expecting DCI Hunt or DCI Drake," he said.

"Well they've gone AWOL," said Kim, "it's me or nothing."

The officer hesitated for a moment but knew that in the situation they were in he decided beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Alright," he said, "here's the situation – forty-five year old male, holding a young woman hostage. Got a knife to her throat, works for the company based in that building, KB Banking. She's the boss's daughter, he's going spare because she got the promotion he was after."

"Any history of violence?" asked Kim, "depression? Drug or alcohol abuse?"

"One incident, domestic violence, four years ago," said the officer.

"Right," said Kim, "what's his name?"

"Michael," said the officer, checking his notes, "Michael Pettet."

"Right," said Kim. She took a deep breath. She was scared, that was true, but she knew that she had to face this. She walked closer to the cordoned area and pushed past the crowd of idiots who were looking on, hoping for some excitement. Just in front of the doorway of the building stood a man, dressed smartly in his suit and tie, a tidy goatee on his face. With one arm he held a young blonde woman whose long hair fell across her terrified face, while in the other he held the blade that could have the power to take her life away.

As Kim moved towards him the blade of the knife caught her eye. In that instance a wild and vivid flashback took her legs from under her; the moment in the darkness of the night that a blade plunged into her stomach, sent her on a long journey to a strange world. A world that had become her home. A home where she had friends, a woman she loved, a job she thrived on and a sense of purpose. She never thought that she would feel that way about Gene's world. Never thought it was possible.

For so long she'd fought it, desperate to get home to be with the people she loved. Fighting against Gene, fighting against Fenchurch East, fighting against a situation over which she had no control. Now she couldn't process the thought of not being there any longer.

She caught herself against a lamp post. _Right place at the right time,_ she thought. A lucky lamp post to stop her from plummeting to the ground. She felt dizzy, her head was starting to go fuzzy and she felt a little strange all over. The sight of the knife had given her such an intense flashback that it almost brought the pain back to her guts. She could almost feel it plunging inside her again. But now, as she stood staring at the young woman on his knife all she could think about was not allowing another person to feel that pain.

She walked deliberately and confidently towards him. Step by step. She slowed her pace as she saw him become twitchier and began to speak.

"Michael?" she waited for a response but none came. "My name's DS Stringer. Kim." She paused, the breeze blowing her short blonde hair around and her hands shaking just a little. "I'm here to see how we can sort this out." She paused. "Would you like to talk to me?"

Michael stared at Kim. Who the hell was this scruffy little dyke anyway?

"No, _thank you,"_ he hissed, "I want to talk to her arse-face of a father."

"Well you'll have to talk to me first," said Kim, "we can't deal with your problems if you won't talk about them."

"I didn't want any fucking police in the first place," cried Michael, "should have just been able to sort it out, the three of us." He stared up at the tower. "Instead he's hiding up there," he screamed, "leaving his own bloody flesh and blood with a knife at her throat!" he looked at Kim. "What sort of a man is that?" he cried, "what sort of a man _does_ that?"

Kim tried to stand firm.

"I don't know him, you tell me," she said, "what's he like to work for?"

"Stupid twat can't see beyond his own swollen head," Michael spat, "his head, and his pony-club daughter. Fourteen years I've been working here. _Fourteen fucking years –_ she'd been here _three years_ and she gets the promotion – my promotion."

"I can see why that would make you so angry," Kim began.

"Oh, you can, can you?" Michael cried, "you can see why it makes me so angry but you're still going to try and get my bloody knife away from me so little miss perfect can go and get the designers in for her new bloody office?"

Kim took a deep breath as the knife began to play on her find. The feeling of her stabbing played through her mind. She tried to cool herself, she knew she was starting to get anxious and couldn't let him see that.

"No," she said, "and you know what? It's not fair. Life's not fair. People get screwed over after working every hour of every day while others skate on by because their DNA sets them up for life, right?" he stared at her, incredulously. This wasn't quite the psychology bull he was expecting, but then again he didn't know that the psychologist amongst them hadn't turned up that morning and Kim was doing her best to fill the gap. "But you know what else won't be fair?" she looked on determinedly, "you, spending your life behind bars for killing this woman. Is she worth that? If she's not worth the paper her contract is printed on then how come she's worth losing your freedom over?" she paused. She had his attention. "Is she? Or isn't she?"

~xXx~

Alex looked decidedly green as she walked through the doors into CID with a less than happy Gene by her side.

"Haven't seen that much vomit since we arrested that party of pissed nuns," he grumbled.

"I said I was sorry," Alex protested quietly, "at least it didn't go in your car."

"No, just _on_ my car!" cried Gene, "on me bloody bonnet! Couldn't you have aimed somewhere else?" his ranting and raving started to slow down. The anxiety his anger had been used to cover up was coming through. He looked at her pale face and asked, "so what was the matter?" he hoped she would respond but she stayed silent. "Bolly –"

"Guv," Eddie's interruption couldn't have been better timed as far as Alex was concerned, "You've got to get down to the docklands." He handed Gene a sheet of paper with some details.

"Why So I can admire the architecture?" Gene scowled.

"Man's threatening a hostage with a knife," said Eddie, "they've been trying to get you down there but you're so late –"

"Don't blame me, blame Mrs _Spew-a-lot_ here," said Gene.

"But it's OK," said Eddie, "because Kim's down there."

"Stringer?" Gene looked up in alarm. What was _Kim_ doing there? "What about Shoebury?"

"No sign of him yet, Guv," said Eddie, "he did have a heavy night last night though."

"Oh he did, did he?" cried Gene, "he'll be having a heavy boot in the face when I get hold of him." He grabbed the phone and tried to dial Simon's number but it rang several times and all he could do was leave a message. "Shoe-Boy," he cried, "get your pickled backside to the bloody docklands. Kim's facing off with a knife-man. And if there's the slightest hint of a hangover on that pasty face of yours you'll be eating raw coffee from now 'til Christmas." He hung up and turned to Alex. "Back in the Vom-Mobile, Drakey."

Alex's stomach lurched at the thought.

"Not sure this is a good idea," she mumbled.

"You think letting Stringer approach a hostage taker is a good idea instead?" asked Gene.

Alex took a deep breath,

"I'll get a bucket," she mumbled crossly.

~xXx~

"So you can spend your life in prison and all your heard work will go to waste," said Kim, "or you can realise that this bitch," she realised she probably wasn't supposed to be insulting the victim but, to be honest, she did look like a bitch, "isn't worth losing your freedom over." She could see he was faltering. "Let her go. Put down the knife. If you stop things here, _now,_ they'll understand. You can make a deal – they'll be able to see you've been pushed to the limit."

"Are you saying I'm crazy?"

"No," Kim shook her head, "not at all. I'm saying you've already been through enough and there's no reason why you should ruin the rest of your life over her." She took a small step closer. "It's hard to talk to you while you still have that knife to her throat. Worried you might slip or something. Why don't you let her go?"

"And then with no hostage to take into consideration those sniper guys will put a bullet in me?" cried Michael, "I don't think so."

Kim took in a deep breath. Her heart was thumping and her head felt strange.

"So do a swap," she said, "Let her go. Take me instead. Then we can talk properly."

Michael glared at Kim. He didn't understand why she'd make that swap.

"You got a gun?" he asked, "another weapon?"

Kim spread her palms.

"Nothing. Look." Michael stared at her. Something about her manner was winning him round.

"Alright" he said, "you step forward. When you get close enough, I'll let her go." He blinked. "You were right. She's not worth it."

Kim exhaled with relief. That was the first step. She could deal with her own safety in due course, but the woman had to go. Very slowly with her hands up she approached him.

"Alright," she said, "let her go."

Michael hesitated. He looked from Kim to the woman in his grasp and finally pushed the blonde piece away and grabbed for Kim instead. He held her by her collar, grasping her in front of him so that he could address her. He held the blade to her neck and hissed,

"So, copper girl, what now? This where I ask for my helicopter?"

Kim tried to keep her breathing calm and even. She blinked and gathered herself.

"You need to tell us what it is that you want," she said as calmly as she could, "we want this situation to end peacefully, and as quickly as possible for everyone's sake. So how can we resolve this? What do you want?"

"I want that fucking Fat-Cat down here, answering my questions."

"Right, well first of all, they're not going to let someone put their life in danger by coming out here to talk to you while you've got that knife," Kim whispered, "so if you want to speak to him you're going to have to put that down." Michael didn't reply. His expression changed a little. Was he thinking about her words? "You'll need to put the knife down first. Then he can come down and speak to you. Give you some answers. I'll stay here with you. You just give me the knife, slowly, and I'll help you get some answers." Very slowly she began to hold out her hand. He seemed to shake a little, his expression seemed less certain than before. "Come on, Michael. You need answers from him and you'll never get them otherwise. I can't give them to you, I don't know anything about your company or the man who's treated you badly. The only way you're going to get answers is to talk to him, and the only way you're going to do _that_ is to give me the knife." She held her hand a little further towards him, trying to pretend it wasn't trembling, "Come on."

She could hear the sound of tyres screeching somewhere nearby but they barely registered. There was a strange feeling in her head, too, an occasional wave of bright white light but she concentrated so hard on the situation around her that she didn't really notice.

"How do I know I'll get to see him?" Michael demanded, "you'll take my knife then they'll charge at me and send me to prison."

"You'll just have to trust me, Michael," said Kim, "you know they won't let him speak to you any other way. Not while you've got the knife. Let me take it, then you can say your piece before anything else happens." She looked at him sincerely. "Come on. Give me the knife now and you can see him right away."

Michael trembled as he stared at Kim. He knew that there was every chance she was lying, but also that he couldn't see any other way out of the situation. He knew he'd acted in haste and now he felt every bit as trapped as he'd felt up there on the fourteenth floor, facing an eternity in the same job with no promotion, no pay rise and no prospects.

His knife lowered. His hands shook. He slowly moved it towards Kim's waiting hand.

"That's it," she whispered, "well done, Michael. Well done."

The sudden sound ofclattering feet killed her plan stone-dead as Gene and Alex raced in a panic to the front of the crowd and Michael's fear rose by several miles. His eyes turned to them, wide and shocked. What the hell was this now? More idiot detectives? What were they going to do? Just the sight of the rushing bodies made him panic. He drew back the offer of his knife from Kim but she took a brave chance and grabbed his wrist, struggling to take the weapon from him.

She'd taken him by surprise but he reacted quickly, grabbing her with his free arm, pulling her backwards and shaking her grasp from his wrist. He had nothing to lose now – he wasn't going to get anywhere. He was already going to prison, wasn't he? Might as well make it worth it. With his hand now free he plunged the knife into her stomach.

The world stood still.

For _everyone,_ the world stood still. Even when it started to turn again it all happened in slow motion.

She felt the pain. That same pain she'd felt before. Her mouth fell open slightly, her eyes wide in fear and agony. Her hand reached down to the knife in her guts as her eyes began to flicker close and her body crumpled to the floor.

Michael knew what was coming next as officers descended upon him, wrestled him to the ground and screamed his rights at him. His life was already over. Now he had the confirmation.

Alex and Gene stood and stared. The shock filtered through to every bone of their bodied. Gaping mouths and wide eyes focused upon her, a pool of blood growing around her twitching body.

"Gene," Alex felt herself trembling, "…Gene…" she didn't know what to say. She knew what she _should_ be saying but her mouth wasn't co-operating.

Gene swallowed.

"Where the bloody hell is Shoebury?" he cried. Alex looked at him in confusion. He seemed strange, he wasn't reacting as he usually would.

"What?"

"Where is he?" he cried. He looked at Alex's face of confusion. "She's _his_, Alex," he cried, "wasn't supposed to be… just sort of happened. He should be here… he should be doing this…"

Alex wasn't sure she understood, but what she did know was that Kim's life was ebbing away before them. When finally she saw Gene moving towards her, she held out her hand to stop him.

"No," she breathed quickly, "please, Gene… please, let me." After what Kim had done for her… _would_ do for her… it felt right. She stared at Gene who stared back for a moment, then nodded slowly but before Alex could move there were screams and thundering footsteps behind them. For a moment they expected them to belong to Simon but the sight of Keats barrelling towards them brought them utter dismay.

"_Save her,"_ he screamed.

"What the _hell?"_ Gene demanded, "where the _buggering hell_ has _he _come from?"

Keats had spent the last few weeks on Kim's tail. No matter where she went, he followed. To the shop, to work, on a night out, on a case – he even followed her to the piercing place and accidentally ended up with a nipple ring… wherever she went, there he was.

On his arrival back from 2011 he was surprised to find that the depth of his desire for Kim had only increased, and by many times. Mixed with blasts of human emotion that he couldn't control he wanted, her desperately. The closest that he could get was to follow her, observe her, try to find a way to get her. He wanted her. He hated that fact. He wouldn't even let himself understand what he felt for her.

But following Kim had backfired the moment he was a knife plunge into her stomach. Now standing before her, watching the blood pouring out of her, he found himself knocked sideways by the sight. Where he would normally be rushing to suck up a soul he was frozen to the spot, trembling, staring, aghast. His heart was pounding and a feeling of dreadful sickness rose in his chest.

"Keep him back," Alex demanded to Gene as she threw herself towards Kim and scooped her up into her lap.

"_Kim_."

Gene had never heard Keats voice sound like that before. It was weak, desperate and devoid of the malevolence that he carried around as standard. His face was stricken as Gene blocked him from moving any closer.

"Stay back, Jimbo," he warned angrily, "this one is _not_ for you."

Kim's pain was fading as her body started to go numb. Her energy was fading, Her body was dying. She could feel someone moving her but she couldn't tell what was going on until suddenly Alex's face appeared over her. That was the moment, that terrible moment that she realised the truth. She was dying.

"_But,"_ she tried to whisper, her voice weak.

"Shh," Alex's fingers stroked back her hair, "Kim, it's alright," she whispered. Kim saw tears in her eyes but her voice was calm and soothing. She felt as though she just might carry her to heaven through that voice alone, "I'm here. You're not alone."

"But I thought I was supposed to make it," Kim choked.

Alex swallowed. Kim could see she was struggling to keep it together.

"Be still, Kim," she whispered, "and be proud. Be proud of all you've done."

Kim couldn't breathe. Her body was slowly shutting down and she knew her mind was fading too. She tried to swallow as she whispered,

"Tell Simon…" she gasped a breath, "to keep fighting."

Alex's face began to crumble. Kim felt a tear fall upon her as she stroked her hair again.

"You've been brave and bold," she whispered, "never forget what you have achieved."

Kim's mouth opened a fraction, her last words on the edge of her tongue but a voice blasted through her head.

"_Any time now…"_

She didn't understand it. Where did it come from? She tried again to speak but there was a sudden bright light surrounding her. It blinded her, swamped her mind. All she could do was to close her eyes as her head began to swim and the strangest sensation overcame her. She felt unreal - _everything_ felt unreal. Then, with a strong sense of peace and calm, a smile spread across her face and she said a silent goodbye to the world she'd grown to love.

She knew now. Things had to come full circle before they reached an end.

The blade sealed the deal. She was going home.

~x~

Alex stared at her empty arms and gulped in shock. Her mouth dropped open. What the hell was she supposed to do _now?_ It made sense, it really did – how could she have doubted that Kim was going home when she knew full well that she made it? But it had been such a close call… She closed her eyes as she let her hands drop to her sides and took a few deep breaths. She could almost still feel her in her hands.

When she gathered herself together slightly she turned to show Gene her empty arms.

"She's home, Gene," she whispered.

Gene swallowed. The emotion of the moment was even getting to him. He nodded very slowly and gave Keats a shove out of the way.

"Right," he said, turning to the crowd, "Bugger off, the lot of you. Nothing to see here…" he dropped his voice, _"…literally…"_ he rolled his eyes.

Alex slowly got to her feet, shaken and tearful. Her hands were till stained with the blood of the young woman who had vanished right before her. Even now, so many years on there were moments in this word that she just couldn't grasp.

Keats blundered forward, staring at Alex.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"Nowhere _you_ can get to her," Alex spat angrily,

"Where the hell_ is_ she?" cried Keats.

"Luckily, 'Hell' is one place she definitely _isn't,"_ Alex hissed.

Keats stared at the blood on the ground. Trembling, he stooped over it, touched it with his fingertips. From his throat came the most soul-shattering, agonised howl that Alex had ever heard. She took a few steps backward and found herself in Gene's arms as he placed them around her shoulders and they both stared on in shock. They'd never seen Keats _like_ that before. He'd never_ been_ like that before.

"What the hell…?" Gene mumbled.

The sound of a car pulling up pulled their attention away from Keats and the sight of a frantic Simon running towards them made both their hearts sink.

"What's happening?" he cried, looking around, "I got your message. Where's Kim?"

The first things Simon saw were Alex and Gene's emotional expressions. The second thing he saw was Keats howling on the floor. The third thing he saw was the pool of blood, and the last thing he saw was the blue sky as he collapsed on the ground, flat on his back.

"Simon, she's home," Alex cried as they ran to him and pulled him upright, "she's _home._"

"What the hell happened?" Simon demanded.

"Some bloody madman stuck a knife in her guts," Gene told him angrily, "and luckily Bolly was here to help her on her journey home. Where the bloody hell were _you?"_

"I… overslept," Simon said a little guiltily.

"She needed you, Shoebury!" cried Gene, "you didn't get it, did you?" he stared at him crossly, "She was _yours,_ Simon!"

"My _what?"_

"What did I say to you when you turned up with Batman in tow?" Gene cried, "I told you there was a little blonde girl with metal through her face, said I thought you could help her. Well, you did, and she became your responsibility."

"I didn't know!" cried Simon, "it's not like she transferred to me!"

"Paperwork's not everything, Shoebury," Gene spat, "that girl needed you today!"

"How was I supposed to know that?" cried Simon. He felt total devastation running through his veins as he thought about it. He really didn't know – how _could_ he? He'd always been there for Kim as a friend, done his best to help her, but – "I… I don't understand… is she dead?"

"Was about ten seconds away from it," Gene told him, "but Bolly sent her home. Faded out. Gone, Vanished."

"From my arms," Alex whispered, "that's never happened before."

Simon looked from one to the other and then to Keats.

"And what the fucking hell is _he_ doing here?" he cried.

"Buggered if I know," Gene said crossly, "but at least he was here… didn't _want_ him here, but…"

"I get the message!" cried Simon, "leave it, Gene!"

"What, like you left her to fend for herself?"

"Gene, _leave it,"_ Alex told him, "It's not Simon's fault."

"No, it'll be the fault of the twenty six pints he downed last night," Gene said crossly

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" cried Simon. "I didn't know what was happening?"

"You don't know anything except the inside of _Bask_!" cried Gene.

"This isn't helping anything," cried Alex, "both of you, shut up! Kim's gone and now we have to deal with the –" she stopped shouting abruptly as a pain gripped her abdomen and she bent forward, a hand quickly rising to her belly. She flinched and took a deep breath.

"Alex? What's wrong?" Simon asked.

"Got a case of gut rot," Gene said brusquely but his face showed a level of concern that he wasn't going to admit to in public. Without letting Simon see he tightened his hold around her and said quietly, "we're doing no good standing around a pool of blood that Jimbo's about to start licking up at any moment." He looked grim and anxious, "we need to get back to the station. Talk about what we're going to say What we're going to tell people."

"Great, it's _Invent A Lie Time_ again," Alex whispered weakly.

"And get you down to the station doctor," said Gene.

"I don't need a doctor, I need you two to stop fighting," Alex told him quietly.

Gene began to lead her away. He glanced at Simon.

"You coming, Shoebury?" he hesitated. "You've not done this part before. You need a lesson on Excuses _one-o-one_."

Simon stared at Gene, then back at the pool of blood. Inside he felt his devastation growing. He'd let her down. His best friend, when she needed him most, and now she was gone.

"Kim," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry."

But he knew he was never going to forgive himself for that, not in a million years. He'd never even said goodbye.


	3. Chapter 2: Missing

**Chapter 2**

Alex glanced at the crumpled, dejected, miserable Simon in the rear-view mirror. He seemed to have taken up most of the backseat, all hunched across it in despair. She glanced at Gene and said quietly,

"Is he going to be alright?"

Gene gave her a sideways look and said,

"I'm more worried about the pasty-faced one next to me."

"I'm fine, Gene, just give it a rest," Alex sighed, turning away.

"What was all that about out there?" Gene pressed, "thought an alien was about to burst out yer stomach, the way you were looking."

"Oh, just leave it," sighed Alex, "they were just stomach cramps. I'm sure you've had them before," she gave him a sideways look, "like after a batch of fishy biscuits for example."

"Nothing wrong with fishy biscuits," Gene told her as he drove.

Alex sighed. He genuinely seemed to like his creation. She shook her head in disapproval. Simon's _Come Dine With Me_ had a lot to answer for.

"Well the next time you make a batch, give me plenty of advanced warning will you? The last time I opened the fridge and found it full of the things I had nightmares for a week."

Gene ignored her. She simply didn't recognise experimental cuisine when she saw it.

"Anyway, you're seeing the station doctor when we get back," he said.

"I'm not drunk, I'm not faking a heart attack and I've not been in a fight," said Alex, "that is the scope of his medical knowledge." She was starting to feel quite uncomfortable as Gene's concerned glances continued to come her way. She sighed. "It's probably just period pains, Gene."

Oh,_ that_ did it. The mention of _women's things_ sent Gene's stare in the other direction and forced him to tug at his collar uncomfortably. She gave a smug smile – so _that_ was the way to get rid of the attention. And the more she thought about it, that's probably what it was anyway. She hadn't had one for a while. She knew she was getting older - even with the delayed aging of Gene's world - her body didn't really run to schedule any more so she didn't really keep track. She was probably in for a doozy. That would explain most things, she probably had hormones coming out of her ears.

She looked at Simon's reflection again. He looked completely dead inside. She couldn't help but feel tearful herself. They'd said goodbye to many people over the years, watched a few make it home, but there as something different about Kim. Maybe it was because she knew of the life Kim had ahead on the other side, or the fact that she'd been the only one who had become ingrained with knowing the way they ran the world who wasn't a DCI. She knew Kim had a whole life ahead of her, but she was going to miss her like crazy.

"Oi, laughing boy," Gene glanced behind him. Simon barely looked up. "Need your full attention for this. You've not been through this yet."

"Through what?" Simon mumbled.

"This is the part where we work out our excuse," said Gene, "Kim's gone. Can't go back to the station and play the '_what Kim?'_ game."

"When Malcolm and Susannah moved on everything changed," Alex told Simon, "it was like pressing the reset button. But this time it's just Kim who's gone. We need to find a way to explain that."

"_Gene Hunt's Big Book o' Excuses_ relies heavily on the 'got a transfer' line," said Gene, "but I don't think that's gonna wash this time.

"Too many people saw her stabbed," Alex said quiety, "it'll ve all over the news. People will want to visit her In hospital… And there's Shaz. We can't exactly use the transfer excuse when Shaz knows Kim would never just up and leave without saying goodbye."

"Which counts out the family business excuse too," said Gene."

Alex looked down sadly.

"She was dying," she whispered, "if she hadn't gone home right then she was seconds away from passing. I could feel it. I could feel her soul. Ten more seconds and I would have had to take her," she felt a tear starting to fall as she looked at Gene. "We're going to have to tell them that Kim died," she whispered.

Gene didn't reply for several moments. His heart was heavy as he finally nodded.

"Died a hero," he added.

"That's fitting," Alex said quietly.

"You can't say that!" Simon cried.

"Simon…"

"You can't tell Shaz she's dead! She'll be devastated!"

"And what would _you _tell her, Shoebury?" asked Gene, "Hmm? Sorry, yer missus has buggered off to two thousand and bollocks?"

"Simon, " Alex began gently, "it's not the first time we've had to say that someone died if the circumstances seem to prove that." She looked at him. "Like you, for example." She saw him looking distressed. "Everyone saw you die. We had a funeral for you and everything."

"Shit," Simon put his head in his hands. He couldn't handle this. It was all a little too much to take.

"I know it's not perfect," Gene began, "but people can't disappear without good reason. We need to say something. This way Kim gets to leave in the blaze of glory she deserves. She did a brave thing. Even I'll miss 'er metal face. But she's gone."

Simon didn't reply. He didn't know what else he could say. This was just another reminder of how much he hated being a part of the power in this world. He wasn't a natural, and no matter what Sam Tyler might have told him he didn't feel he had any place there. He closed his eyes and wished that he could just fade away.

~xXx~

Grim footsteps trudged through CID. Gene turned to Simon and said, "Get Lindsay and Vickery."

"I don't want any part of this," Simon said quietly.

"Do you want any part of my fist?" Gene threatened.

Simon sighed crossly and marched away to fetch them while Alex laid a hand on Gene's shoulder.

"He'll come round," she said quietly, "it's always a shock. He just needs some time to understand why we have to do this."

A moment later a confused Lindsay and Vickery came into the room and Gene shuffled uncomfortably.

"Listen up," he said loudly. The hubbub in the office quietened down as myriad faces turned towards him. He looked down. He might have known that Kim was home but he still watched her suffering as the knife plunged into her body and he would still miss that girl. "Detective Sergeant Kim Stringer lost 'er life this morning." A shocked gasp rose from the office, "she saved a young woman from some idiot with a work grudge but wasn't so lucky herself. Stabbed." He took a deep breath as he saw the stunned faces around him. "Kim died a hero and she'll never be forgotten. I know this is a shock. If you need some time, take a break." He paused, "or, go and get something pierced in her honour." He saw the gathering in too much of a state of shock to move. "Go on, then – bugger off."

Gradually the gathering dispersed. Lindsay was sobbing, Eddie was shaking his head and muttering, Bammo was threatening to get a piercing in a very delicate place. But everyone seemed stunned by the announcement.

Alex tugged at Gene's sleeve a little to get his attention.

"I'd better go to uniform before word gets out," she said quietly, "someone needs to tell Shaz."

"You sure you're up to it, Bolly?" Gene asked, "you're still not looking right."

"I think it will be best coming from me," Alex said quietly. She glanced at Simon who was kicking as desk in anger. "Besides, it looks like you're needed here."

Gene exhaled and closed his eyes.

"Right," he mumbled. He should have known Simon would take it this badly and maybe he'd been a little hard on him with his earlier words. He nodded and watched Alex leave before turning to Simon. "Shoebury."

Simon looked around, not even meeting his eye.

"What?"

"My office," said Gene.

Simon gave a deep sigh.

"I've had enough of a bollocking for one day," he said.

"Not a bollocking, just a man-to-man talk," said Gene. He opened the door of his office and held it open while he waited for Simon to pass. Reluctantly Simon did as he was told and took a seat. He didn't think there was anything Gene could say to make him feel any better. The day had been just another reminder of the strange and stressful nature of a world in which he really didn't wish to be.


	4. Chapter 3: Beyond the Invisible

**Chapter 3**

Simon watched as Gene walked to his filing cabinet, fished out his scotch and placed two glasses on the desk. He filled them both with the rich liquid and slid one across to Simon. Simon looked at it a little incredulously.

"It's medicinal" Gene told him, "for the shock."

Since Kim had taught him to drink beer Simon had left Gene's scotch well alone. He didn't like the taste or the smell of the stuff, but considering the way he felt the strong alcohol might be just what he needed.

"Thanks," he said.

Gene picked up his glass and stated to pace up and down. He looked at Simon.

"Bloody pain in the arse, streak of piss, she was.

Simon's mouth dropped open. He could hardly believe what Gene was saying, Hadn't he heard you shouldn't speak ill of the dead?

"What?" He cried.

"Stringer," Gene explained, "came in here, bloody insubordinate woman, stealing me liquor, buggering off down the piercing place every day and drinking herself stupid at night. Couldn't stand 'er. Dreaded the sight of her miserable features coming in the office in the morning,." He paused and stared at Simon. "And then," he said, "she met you. And you helped her. Gave her a place to stay, helped her get on with her work, gave her a shoulder to cry on, gave her a friend to talk to.," he paused. "Gave her hope. And Simon, that's the most we can ever hope to do."

Simon stared at gene. He wasn't sure where he'd been going with those words to begin with, Now he found a lump in his throat.

"She was my friend," he said quietly, "what am I going to do without her?"

"You pick yourself up and carry on," said Gene, "which is what we always do. We always have done. "

Simon picked up his glass and stared onto it. It gave him a visual distraction while he spoke.

"I let her down."

"No, you didn'y."

"You_ told_ me I had, and you were right."

"I was upset. Didn't mean it like that," Gene said gruffly.

"Yes you did," said Simon, "and you're right." He shook his head slowly. "I didn't know she was mine. How can you tell?"

Gene breathed in deeply.

"December," he said, "Stringer got shot. You told me, it wasn't her time." He looked at Simon seriously. "You made that call because, somehow, she'd been transferred to you. No need for paperwork. She fitted in with you. You made a good team."

Simon gave a sad smile.

"That we were," he said quietly.

Gene held up his glass.

"To Stringer, and her hundred and one metal bits," he said.

Simon gave a sad smile.

"And to two thousand and three," he said quietly.

They clinked glasses, sipped their drinks and Simon pulled a face. Gene walked slowly to the door, glass in hand. "Take yer time. Shoebury. Finish yer drink, get yer breath back and get to work. The world keeps turning, son."

Simon stared at the bottle on the desk as Gene left. His head was spinning but it wasn't from the sip of scotch. He felt empty and isolated, he'd lost his only real friend and he had no idea how he was going to survive without Kim around. The world was suddenly a very lonely place. Get on with work? How the hell was he ever going to do that when he couldn't even think about anything beyond how he was going to survive without his best friend?

"Sod that," he said, shaking his head.

With that he did the only thing he felt he could do. The ultimate tribute to Kim.

He pilfered Gene's bottle of scotch and buggered off to get absolutely steaming drunk.

~xXx~

Alex couldn't have felt much worse as she trudged to uniform. Her heart felt so heavy. Through the whole time that Shaz's arrival in the scene had been traumatising her she had focused on the fact that _Shaz_ was going to die. Never once did she think about what would happen to Shaz when Kim went home.

"Excuse me," she said to the officer on duty, "could you tell me if PC Granger is here?"

"She's in the briefing room," the officer told her.

"Is she on her own?" Alex asked awkwardly.

"I shouldn't think so," frowned the officer.

"Is there somewhere I could take her?" Alex asked quietly, "I'm afraid I have some," she swallowed, "some upsetting news for her."

The officer looked a little alarm.

"I'm sure there is," she said, "I'll bring her out for you."

"Thank you," Alex said quietly. She tapped her feet nervously against the desk. She would have done anything to escape this situation. The thought of telling Shaz something so shattering almost made her own heart break. She stared on as she saw the officer approaching with Shaz, who seemed pleased to see her.

"Oh hello," she smiled, "fancy seeing you down here! Have you come to wish me luck?"

The officer pointed down the corridor.

"You can use the room on the right," She said.

"Thank you," Alex said with a weak smile.

"What's going on?" Shaz asked quietly.

Alex put an arm around Shaz's shoulder and began to lead her away.

"I've got some news for you, Shaz," she said quietly. She opened the door and waved her in. "It's not good." She saw panic on her face. "I think you'd better sit down.

Shaz slowly sank into a chair and looked at Alex anxiously.

"You're making me nervous." She whispered.

Alex stared at her big, dark innocent eyes and tears began to fall. She tried to hold them back but she couldn't.

"Oh Shaz," she whispered,. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Shaz's face became pale, "You're scaring me now."

Alex sank down beside her and looked at her with tearful eyes.

"Shaz," she began, "this morning Kim went out to attend a hostage situation, " her voice began to break up, "and she didn't make it back," she could barely speak now but managed to keep going, "she saved a young woman from a crazed man with a knife, but sadly, she…. She couldn't… save herself."

Shaz stared. She didn't move, she didn't speak. Her eyes were wide and there was a terrible tightness across her chest. She began to ask what Alex meant but she could see the answer written all over her face. There was no doubt, no shred of doubt that Kim hadn't survived. He found herself taking huge gulps of air, but they did no good. The oxygen wouldn't go round her body. She clutched her hand to her chest and gasped.

"Oh god… oh god… oh my _god,_ no…" streams of tears began to fall in an instant as her whole face crumbled and her body began to lose control. "Oh god, _Kim_, no…" she wept loudly and uncontrollably.

Alex swallowed and tried to keep herself together but that was an impossible task. She wrapped her arms around her and held her, trying to bring her just a little comfort but she knew that her arms offered nothing to the girl who'd just lost the love of her life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered "Shaz, I'm _so_ sorry."

"Oh no… _oh god, no,"_ Shaz's cried were tortured and terrible, she couldn't stop screaming and crying as the truth began to sink in.

Alex wished so dearly that she could tell her the truth. She longed to tell her that Kim was safe, well and living her life out there but even if Shaz understood that they'd never be together again. She had to stick with the half lie, remembering the sight of Kim laying in her arms. There was nothing easy about the world, nothing at all. This was just another reminder.


	5. Chapter 4: Everything Must Go

**Chapter 4**

"Just like nothing… ever… happened," Keats told himself as he straightened his tie and adjusted his spectacles. He was ready for the eyes to fall upon him as he opened the door wide and marched through CID at Fenchurch West. He'd been gone for months, much of that time spent in a coma. After he awoke and absconded from hospital he'd been mostly spending his time following Kim and wallowing in self-pity.

Now Kim was gone, there was a dark feeling that was creeping into his head, trying to take over his mind. He didn't like that feeling. It was all too human.

Regret. Remorse. Sadness. Loss. He angrily told himself to push those aside. Kim was home, He had to focus on the next step. The next plan.

_Back to the drawing board._

Her told himself that Kim had been distracting him from the real work, defeating Fenchurch East, dethroning Gene, taking the pieces for himself. If he could somehow get Alex and Simon to 'transfer' then all the better but even without he was sure he could win the next round.

Some of his plans had changed slightly. They'd had to. Now he'd lost Kim he could no longer fix his sights on her, in either a personal or a professional sense. The desk he had been saving for her remained empty. Now he would never fill it. There were things he'd discovered in the real world in 2011 that changed some of his plans too. He thought he had a pawn, something – some_one _– that would feature at some point. But while he was busy making plans it seemed his pawn had made it all the way across to the other side of the board and been crowned in his own right.

"Sir?"

He saw the cold eyes of Victoria Stone settling upon him. His sneer greeted her as though he'd scraped her from his shoe.

"You don't seem very surprised to see me, Stone," he said.

"I'm not," Victoria said coldly. She'd already prepared herself for his return. As soon as she heard he was awake she knew that her temporary appointment as head of CID was over. It was just a matter of time until he waltzed back in. She'd seen it before.

"And yet your stuff is still sitting in my office," Keats sneered.

"If you had let us know your ETA then I would have removed it, _sir,"_ she snapped.

Keats was a little taken aback. This wasn't quite the same placid Victoria that he had come to know and bully. It seemed in his absence she'd hardened a little. He had to nip that in the bud.

"Don't you have parking tickets to attend to?" he asked, "or a flasher to lock up?"

Victoria ignored him. Her time in this world under the devastating effect of Fenchurch West had changed her. Stone by name, Stone by nature. She was losing her heart and her soul. She no longer tried to change things or to bring justice to her life. She simply didn't care.

"After you tell me how you have been reinstated while there are charges pending against you," she said flatly.

Keats drew in his breath.

"Well, first of all, _Detective Inspector,_ the super has cleared me to return to work."

Victoria gave a mocking laugh. The Super - that was a joke all by itself. Just another puppet, put in place by Keats. There was no one to challenge Keats – the station was his. There were no other DCIs in the station, there was no one who could stem his reign. He was king of his castle.

"And the charges?"

"One of them has been dropped," Keats said coldly, "Kimberley Stringer no longer wishes to press charges."

Victoria tried to stare him down. She didn't succeed but she came bloody close. Eventually she turned away.

"Well if you're cleared to return," she began, "then I had better move my things."

"Make sure you leave my office in the state you found it," Keats told her.

He trembled a little with anger as he watched her go. He thought he could step back in and everything would be as it was. Now his DI had an attitude problem? He would deal with that. He'd _have_ to. But all in good time.

He looked around and gave a smile as he saw his new desk sergeant. He'd been excited about that particular transfer. Sadly he'd been in his coma when he started his job so he had yet to see him in place. Now he watched him on duty it felt like another victory against his rivals to add to the list.

"And how are you getting on in your new post, Viv?" he asked.

Viv James looked up. He looked haggard and tired. He'd aged considerably since the day Keats took him. While aging progressed at a slower rate in this world the trauma of what he had been through had added many years to his face. He stared at Keats with hollow, haunted eyes.

"Very well, Sir," he said coldly.

Keats smiled. Perfect. It was so perfect.

"Good," he said, "Good – keep up the good work!"

There was no recognition on Viv's face. He didn't recall Fenchurch East nor the moment Keats took his soul so callously. His nightmares told him that he had been through something unbearable but he could never remember what it was. He hoped to god he never would.

Keats scanned the office. _Perfect._ Aside from Stone, it was all perfect, and he would deal with her in good time. As his eyes moved around the room they settled upon a desk and a sudden image flashed into his head of himself and Kim across the desktop. He flinched and gave a shudder, trying to push it from his memory. He mustn't think about that now. Kim was gone. _New plan…_ had to start a new plan.

He turned around and saw another desk. _Whoompf _– there in his mind he saw her again, laying back, her clothes discarded, her body full of drugs that would just take off the edge, things she didn't know she'd consumed. Things he'd slipped to her so often that he had lost track of how many times.

He felt acid rising in his chest and he gulped it back. No time for that now. Had to fight those thoughts. He marched to the door of his office and threw it open.

"Haven't you finished in here yet? He demanded.

Victoria looked at him angrily as she gathered up a pile of papers.

"If I had a magic wand I could do this faster, but I don't," she snapped.

"Then get out and finish later," snapped Keats, "I need my space!"

Victoria was about to protest but she realised she really didn't care. He could have all the space he needed.

"Fine," she said, "with pleasure."

Keats watched her as she threw her papers in the bin and marched to the door which she slammed behind her. In anger Keats drew the blinds around the office and kicked the bin, sending its contents flying all over the floor. He breathed deeply and tried to regain his composure as he panted heavily. Finally he felt a little calmer and turned to walk to his desk, but his memory had other ideas as all the times he'd taken Kim over that desk replayed in his memory, they were so vivid that he might as well have been screwing her right there and then. He felt himself hardening at the memory, while inside his head that dark feeling began to grow.

He couldn't; escape her.

Now that she was gone, Kim was everywhere.

He opened up the door and marched out of the room.

"Hold my calls," he yelled unnecessarily to the people in the office as he marched out of CID and along the corridor to the gents'. He stormed in as though he was a thunderstorm personified and took his frustration out by punching the condom machine.

As he turned around he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Immaculate suit, not a hair out of place, not a blemish on his skin. And yet his eyes told a different story. His eyes were full of hatred, self-loathing, anger and pain. He leaned forward a little closer and looked right into his own soul. It was a process that terrified him deep down inside.

Thoughts of Kim and all he'd put her through flew around him and churned him up inside.

"I've lost her," he murmured to his reflection, staring himself in the eye, "I've lost her forever." An image of Kim in hospital flashed into his mind and made him howl with emotional agony. "And I killed my baby!"

What the hell were those thoughts doing in his head? Why wouldn't they go away? The reflection in the mirror taunted him, reminding him of all he had done and all that he'd lost. He gave a scream, an inhuman howl, and collapsed to the ground with his hands to his head where he stayed, crying out in distress, for several minutes until the darkness flew away from him as quickly as it descended.

He stood up. He looked at himself once again. Now, all he saw was his reflection. Once again there was nothing behind his eyes. He nodded to himself and straightened up his suit.

"Back to work, Jim," he told himself, "you have a job to do."

But as he left the toilets he felt disturbed. Those little moments of humanity were staring to encroach upon his life and he couldn't let them. Didn't dare. Otherwise he would have none of the world he knew left to hold onto.

"Rebuild, not fall apart," he told himself angrily. The mirror was not his friend and neither were his memories.

~xXx~

Alex looked up in surprise as Gene pressed the glass into her hand. She has been in a world of her own, thinking about Kim's homeward journey, poor Shaz and the traumas of the day. It felt as though the day might never end and she felt eternally grateful that she was finally home.

"What's that fair?" she asked quietly as Gene filled the glass with red wine.

"Toasting Metal Mickey," said Gene, "she wasn't a bad one." He paused, "for an ink-stained, metal-clad freak."

Alex gave a tiny smile and sighed.

"She's going to leave a big space in this world," she said.

"Not as much as the 'spaces' she had in her bloody ears," said Gene, filling his own glass. He looked a little apologetic. "This was going to be scotch but it seems to 'ave wandered off somewhere, accompanied by person or persons unknown."

"Ghost of Kim," Alex said quietly with a little smile.

"If that's what we're calling Shoebury now then you might be right," he said. He held his glass up. "To Stringer."

"To Kim," Alex said quietly as she clinked her glass against his. She watched Gene drink but set her own glass down without taking a sip and sighed. "Shaz is devastated."

"Hard when they get close to someone," said Gene.

Alex stared at him, thinking about her own precarious position, still alive on the outside.

"Yes," she whispered, "it is."

Gene sank onto the couch beside her and shook his head slightly.

"Think I was a bit hard on Simon," he said.

Alex felt a little anxiety creeping in.

"I think he's going to take this very badly," she said, "they relied on each other."

Gene nodded his head.

"They were a bit like you and me, Bols," he said, "except with less shagging and more X-Files videos."

"Simon's very much alone now," Alex said sadly.

"He's out every night with the bloody stapler guy and that redhead in his office," said Gene.

"It's not the same though," said Alex, "we used to be down the karaoke every night with terry and Poirot but would you go to them if you had a big problem?"

"No," said gene, "but then again they usually_ cause_ me problems."

"Simon's become a very solitary figure," Alex commented.

"He'll be fine," said Gene.

"He's got a lot going on to bear on his own," said Alex.

"Might I remind you of another solitary figure not a million miles away from you?" said Gene, "coped OK, didn't I?"

Alex pulled a face and made a mocking noise.

"Yeah, right," she said, "I remember what you were like when I first arrived. And I remember the things Sam Tyler said about you in his therapy. I might not have been in Manchester but I know the kinds of things you used to get up to."

"Just part of me plan to lure you in, make you think I needed looking after," said Gene.

"Need looking _at,"_ Alex corrected, "…in the head."

Gene gulped down some wine and looked at Alex.

"My quality plonk not good enough for you tonight?" he asked.

"What?" Alex glanced at her full wine glass on the table. "Oh… don't really fancy it tonight," she said, "I haven't really got the stomach for it."

"Surprised you had any stomach left after what you did on me car," Gene couldn't resist commenting.

"Thanks for that," Alex mumbled.

"Did you go and see the doc?" Gene asked.

Alex groaned. She hoped he'd forgotten about that.

"Gene, after seeing Shaz I didn't want to see anyone, do anything or go anywhere. The last thing I wanted was to stick out my tongue and say _ahhhh_." She leaned against his shoulder feeling tired and drained and said quietly, "I hope Kim is alright, I mean…" she sighed, "I _know_ she's 'alright'… or she will be… but she said she had such a hard time when she first went home. And that's where she is right now."

"You know she'll be fine," Gene told her. He placed his hand over hers which surprised her. Even now Gene wasn't always good at comforting gestures. "so she's got a puddle of crap to wade through first._ Life_ is a big puddle of crap! But she gets to the other side. You said yourself she had a new life."

Alex nodded.

"I know," she whispered, "but I can't shake the feeling that…" she trailed off and shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Gene. There just seemed to be something wrong. Something missing. When she talked about her life it was like at the back of it she still wasn't really happy. I couldn't put my finger on what it was but it was like she wasn't whole."

"She wasn't whole because she had too many gaps where she'd stuck bits of metal," said Gene but he knew what she meant. He sighed and wondered what he could possibly say to make her feel any better. "I think, lady B, it's time to forget about Stringer and her two thousand and bollocks. "

Alex nodded slowly. Dwelling on it was going no good.

"And think about what instead?" she asked.

"Three suggestions," said Gene, "bed, sex and chocolate spread."

Alex closed her eyes but couldn't fight the smile.

"I might have to give the chocolate spread a miss tonight," she said.

"just parts one and two then."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Those are my favourite parts," she said.

They stood up and walked to the bedroom, leaving both Alex's full glass of wine and all thoughts of Kim behind for the night.


	6. Chapter 5: Killing Me Softly

**Chapter 5**

Simon woke from a scotch-induced haze and threw up horribly. He wasn't sure if it was from the abundance of alcohol or the nightmares he'd been suffering. He wasn't intending to go to sleep but after spending the best part of the day consuming Gene's scotch on an empty stomach he found himself passed out across the couch.

What had started as his own way of remembering Kim quickly turned into another part of his spiral of self-abuse. He had struggled from the moment he set foot in Gene's world again. Finding out that he had died and being separated from Robin had just about killed him all over again. He couldn't cope without him. Didn't know how to. He'd always thought that he was the strong one but it seemed that he'd been mistaken about that.

From there he had been finding more and more ways to numb the pain. A life-long teetotaller, the lure of the bottle had called to him and nights in with his Red Dwarf video collection had been replaced by boozy nights at the karaoke. When that stopped numbing the pain enough to sleep he started taking tranquilisers. He also stopped eating, minus the occasional junk food binge, Food hurt too much to contemplate. Food reminded him of Robin. It was too much to cope with.

And now? Now he had lost his one real friend. _Kim._ They'd had their moments – they fought like a real brother and sister – but they were so close that losing her from the world had come as a massive shock to Simon and he didn't know how to cope. So he'd turned to the scotch and filled his blood with alcohol until he passed out across the couch and found himself trapped in nightmares that made little sense but brought him such horror that he couldn't hold back when he awoke to a wave of nausea.

Strange images that he couldn't understand; Kim, older, looking a little different and Robin, the man he missed so much. The nightmare made so little sense, the sight of the two of them kissing was so unlikely but shocked Simon so deeply that he awoke crying before throwing up.

It took him several minutes to calm himself down. When he did, he found himself getting angrier about losing his friend. He remembered seeing Keats there at the scene. What the hell was he doing there? Crying over Kim when he'd ruined her life. He'd ruined all their lives, in fact. Hurt every last one of them. Himself, Kim, Gene, Alex – the list went on. And yet there he was, screaming and crying over Kim going home?

His blood boiled. He couldn't remember ever feeling so angry.

He picked up the bottle of scotch and took a long swig. His whole body felt numb now. There was no feeling in it at all. He couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight, certainly couldn't walk straight, but there was one thing that he knew for certain and that was that their lives would be so much better without Keats in the world.

How _dare _he cry over Kim? How fucking_ dare_ he? He used her, drugged her, took what he wanted from her and then left her to die, tied up in her own home.

That was it, that was enough. Simon could take no more. He knew that he wouldn't settle that night until he went to see Keats for himself in that bloody flat of his that he'd lives at _forever _and told him to fuck the hell off out of their lives.

If his fists did some of that talking for him then so much the better.

~xXx~

Alex lay in bed feeling sad and anxious as Gene slept beside her, snoring lightly. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but her mind was too active. It started just going over the events of the day and she found herself in turmoil, thinking about Shaz's distraught face and Kim lying in her arms, travelling home a whisper before she would have had to take her. The day had been so intense and so emotional that Alex could hardly breathe as she thought about it.

As she lay there her mind travelled to another subject as her hand travelled to her stomach. She still felt crampy and sore. Her hand moved back and forth trying to soothe the aches, wishing the cramps would leave her alone to get some sleep. As she ran her hand along her skin she felt the slight raising of the scar. Every time Gene saw her unwell he assumed the scar would be hurting and that she'd be fading in and out. He was driving her crazy with that. Her scar was about the only thing that _didn't_ ache, she observed as she tried to rub away the cramps again.

She chewed on her lip as she noticed the changing shape of her belly. It was a little rounder, more taught than she was used to. She hadn't noticed before. Her first thought was, _how can I be gaining weight when I've hardly eaten in weeks?_ Her second thought was, _that's not weight gain._

She felt her heart surge with worry as she closed her eyes and let her mind run riot over the facts that she'd been working hard to bury. She shook her head slowly, trying to find all the reasons why it wasn't possible and her mind was just working overtime. She turned from one side to the other, tossing and turning in search of sleep. What couldn't she just forget about all of this and doze?

It was night time, and things always seemed worse at night time. She was being paranoid and stupid, and in the cold light of day she'd roll her eyes and curse herself for worrying about it. She was sure.

But lying there with nothing but her worries for company she couldn't stop herself from running over it in her mind again and again.

~xXx~

How she had even got to sleep, Shaz didn't know.

She supposed she was so distraught that she had cried herself to sleep eventually. Alex had to drive her home from the station – she couldn't go on working as she was and she'd spent the afternoon and evening sobbing her heart out. She couldn't explain why someone she'd only known for months had become so deeply ingrained in her heart. She had never been in love before. Not really. Kim was special, and she knew she'd been special to Kim too.

From a chance meeting in a nightclub they had come to share some special nights, intimate moments and nights of raw passion. And after that? After that came the words that she'd never expected – '_I love you Shaz'_. With a racing heart she'd whispered them back and from that moment she knew that she wanted to be with Kim for the rest of her life.

Now, Kim had gone. _Died a hero,_ Alex had said. It didn't matter to Shaz how she'd died – she shouldn't have died at all. It seemed so unfair – so _bloody_ unfair. She'd only just cheated death herself and now she'd lost Kim.

It was around ten when she finally passed out from exhaustion on her couch and slept in a deep and troubled sleep, full of nightmares and tears. She wasn't sure how long it went on for but eventually she awoke with a start. For a moment she was absolutely certain that Kim was lying beside her. She could even feel her hand within here own. But when she looked, there was no sign of her. No sign at all.

"Oh Kim," She whispered as the tears began to fall again.

Her heart was broken and her life was over. She didn't know if she would ever stop crying again.

~xXx~

Gene was sure Alex had finally fallen asleep. He'd been listening to her tossing and turning for hours. He'd managed to drop off at first but she'd woken him with her constant impression of a chicken on a skewer, rotating all night long.

Now she was still; her breathing deep and even. He turned around and stared at her face while she slept. He studied every one of her features. She was so beautiful. How could she be so beautiful.

There was something about Kim going home that really disturbed him and he only now understood what it was. Ashe started at his Bolly he realised how precarious the world could be and that he could lose her at any moment.

She'd made the choice. She wanted to stay. But – he came to realise – Kim had started to make that same choice. She'd fallen in love. She had a home, friends, a life. He could see in her the same passion for the world that he and Alex shared.

But a stab wound to the guts had sent her home. And why?

"Her body was too weak here to contain that bloody minded soul," Gene mumbled with a sigh.

He stared at Alex and ran a finger along her arm. Her health was scaring him. he'd never seen her so weak and pale. It had been going on for weeks now. It didn't matter what he said, she just denied there was anything wrong. Now that he'd seen Kim – a woman who had found her place in his world – sent home by a weakened state he started to worry what that meant for Alex. While her health was failing was there a chance of losing her?

"You," He whispered, "had better not bloody bugger off."

He knew she couldn't hear him. Her mouth was lolling open as she slept quite soundly at last with one hand laying across her stomach. He slowly leant forward and kissed her on the cheek, then pulled the duvet up around her and lay beside her again. Whatever was draining her of her strength he just hoped that she had enough left to lay down her anchors and stay firmly rooted to his world.

~xXx~

"I should have been with you."

Keats stared at the floor as he sat on his bed. All he could see was Kim.

He couldn't block her out of his head. He'd been trying most of the day but all he got was an action replay everywhere he looked.

He felt churned up inside, his blood boiling and his mind racing. Where had it all gone so wrong? She was just another pawn, someone who could get him information from inside Fenchurch West and allowed him to get his end away into the bargain. That was all it was. At least, that was how it started.

He wanted to scream at himself when he thought about how he had fallen for her, how she had become ingrained in every cell of his body. He saw that cute face, the bleached hair, the piercings everywhere he looked. Couldn't fight them.

He jumped to his feet and started to pace. He remembered feeling so smug that he got Kim in his web of lust. Sex with a lesbian – that was one to boast about – right? But it had gone beyond that and suddenly he found himself thinking about her all the time, needing her, wanting to be with her, That human side had been coming out more and more and every now and then as she lay, knocked out in bed from the tainted wine and the gas and air, he would whisper her name and press his lips to her cheek.

And then it all started to go wrong. Simon arrived. _Fucking Shoebury_! And Kim knew he was from the other world… now she had a new key to getting home she wouldn't see him any more.

He screamed as he thought about it. Simon – bloody Simon, always ruined his life and his plans.

He grew so angry with Kim that he flipped out, left her tied and gagged in her own home. He regretted that… oh god, did he regret that… He left her to die. She lay there with a raging thirst, pissing herself on the bed, unable to move, to eat, to drink, to scream for help _– he_ did that to her.

"You fucking _bastard!"_ he screamed as he slapped himself around the face. That felt good to do, taking it out on himself for what he'd put Kim through. He repeated the action, harder this time. Oh god, that felt exquisite. It was no more than he deserved either.

What came after the gagging and the tying was worse. He could hardly bear to think of it. The kick to the stomach, watching Kim in agony. He had no idea… he didn't know she was pregnant… if he'd known… if he'd had any idea.

"_Yyyyeeaahhhhhhhhrrggggghhhh_!" he screamed as he threw a punch at his own face. He didn't strike himself with enough force though, maybe he just couldn't do it convincingly, One of those reflexes where you cannot hurt yourself. He growled in anger and stomped through to the bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror.

"You lost her," he hissed to his reflection. His reflection hissed it back. "You hurt her and now you've fucking lost her – forever!" he started to shake and tremble as his blood boiled and he started to lose control of himself. "and you killed your baby… your own flesh and blood!" suddenly all his rage and anger boiled up inside of him as he let out one last terrifying scream. "You killed your own fucking _baby!"_

That was it. Something just snapped. The human side and the monster clashed and blew up inside of him in a single motion that led to a searing pain throughout his forehead.

He smashed his head into the bathroom mirror.

The sound of the glass shattering was exquisite. It filled all his senses with ecstasy. He didn't know how he would ever feel such a moment of wonder again. But then came the pain, the physical pain as the glass buried into his skin and the emotional pain as the reasons for his actions wouldn't go away. He cried and he screamed and he wailed but he didn't feel any better.

The man and the monster were fighting their hardest battle far, there were no winners, nor were there likely to be.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: WARNING! From the next chapter the rating is going up to M. Things are about to get very grim indeed. You have been warned! Also, I'm sorry if I'm updating too much, I'm still in limbo land with this pregnancy as I didn't get quite the news I was hoping for and writing is a really well-needed distraction x**_


	7. Chapter 6: Walkaway

_**A/N: Please note the rating has risen to M from this chapter. This chapter contains sexual content and dark themes.**_

**Chapter 6**

Doors were open. Luck was on his side.

So he thought.

As Simon entered the flat, the sound of smashing glass raised his heart rate to a level it had never been pushed to before. He froze for some time as he heard footsteps rushing around, then he found himself tearing through the flat until he reached the bedroom which was where he found him; Jim Keats, his forehead dripping with blood as shards of a broken mirror dropped to the floor. A heart shattering scream came up from his throat and escaped through his mouth, emptying his lungs of oxygen. Simon assumed the scream came from the pain of the glass buried deeply onto his forehead but the scream was born of a very different kind of pain, and a kind he was far less adept at handling.

He spun around to find Simon behind him. His first thought wasn't _what the fuck are you doing here?_ or _how did you get in?_ It was _Thank god someone is here._

Words built up inside him and fled from his mouth before he could stop them. They came from deep inside of him, screaming into existence.

"_I killed my baby!"_

His howls were filled with anger, self-loathing and a terrible guilt that burned its way through his entire body; head to toe, top to bottom. His eyes were wide and manic, his limbs held stiffly at strange angles contorting with the pain of the truth that had finally filtered through all the layers of evil, hatred and darkness that he'd put up around himself.

Simon drew back in shock, both scared and strangely fascinated by the look upon his face. He'd seen hints of this before, those brief times when Keats's human side started to filter through, but never so raw and so blatant.

"What the hell have you done?" he cried, staring in horror at the wounds across his forehead. He could see tiny fragments of glass still embedded in some of the cuts while others were just bleeding profusely down his face.

Keats reached out, gripping Simon by the arms. He looked at him as though he believed he could somehow take the anguish away and cried,

"_I lost Kim_ andI killed my _baby."_

Simon pushed him away and took a step back, trying to make some semblance of sense of what was happening. The alcohol in his system impaired both his physical reactions and his mental capacity for dealing with the situation. He tried to think of something to say or something he could do to calm Keats down but he couldn't even begin to fathom an answer.

"Calm down!" he cried, "calm the _hell _down!" He was aware of the irony in those words but this wasn't the time to worry about that. "Look at your fucking head!" He noticed Keats began to slow down just a little. "What have you _done? _Headbutting a bloody mirror? What the hell?"

Keats breathed deeply as he stared at Simon. _Simon._ Why was it that every time he found himself lapsing into his human side Simon seemed to turn up like a bad penny? He struggled to find the words to explain his actions, to justify them, but none came.

"I…," he tried to finish his sentence gulping for breath, "I just… couldn't take it any more." he felt the anguish swelling inside him again. "I killed my baby and I never _knew!"_

Simon placed his hands on Keats's shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"Just calm down," he cried, "calm _down." _He took a proper look at the wounds on his forehead for the first time. Even in the dim light he could see how nasty they were. They were going to need some serious cleaning, and at least two or three would need stitches, he was sure of that. He closed his eyes just for a moment. "Keats, you're… you're going to have to get to hospital."

Keats stepped back little, escaping the grasp Simon had on him. He shook his head slowly as the wounds began to sting a little. The physical pain was starting to break through the mental agony.

"No," he said quickly and firmly, "not the hospital."

Simon realised for the first time that he felt quite out of breath. The shock of Keats's actions had knocked the wind out of him. He breathed deeply a couple of times and stared at the blood-smeared, shattered face before him. This wasn't Keats as he'd ever seen him before. This went beyond just seeing a peek at the human side. This was the full effect of the return of emotions that had been long since banished from his mind.

Why was he so fixated on trying to get that human side to emerge from Keats anyway? After all Keats had done to him, all he'd put him through, somehow he wasn't giving up on it. He wished he could understand why. It didn't make any sense to him, but he couldn't shake the desperate need to bring back to him the human qualities that he saw those rare glimpses of.

The broken man standing before him right there and then was about as human as he had ever seen. With trembles emanating though his body as the shock of his actions started to sink in, a bleeding head and eyes so full of remorse that they were as dark as the night sky, Simon felt his natural response to help kick in. Even knowing who it was, even despite his earlier intentions, even knowing that Keats could flip again at any second and become the monster instead of the man, he had to help him.

"Look," he whispered, his breath broken by gasps of shock, "you… you need to get that head cleaned up. If you won't go to hospital you at least need to dress these cuts." he reached out cautiously and touched one of them lightly with his finger. He saw something glinting in the light and watched Keats draw backwards. "Sorry," Simon flinched, realising that a small piece of mirror had been hidden within that bloodied cut.

"No hospitals," Keats said again, this time through gritted teeth.

"I know, I know," Simon said quickly, "I'll do it. _I'll_ do it." He hesitated. Now he'd made the promise of helping he didn't know what the next step was. Where was Susannah and her first aid knowledge when he needed it? Oh yeah - dead, at the Railway Arms. _Bollocks._ "Antiseptic…" he began, "where do you keep your antiseptic? Medicines? All that stuff?"

Keats never used medication. He had a vague memory of his younger, mid-nineties counterpart keeping a few bits and pieces though.

"Try the cupboard in the bathroom," he said quietly, surprised how much his voice shook, "the one under the sink."

Simon nodded and turned on his heels, his balance taken from him by alcohol. He swayed a little and almost toppled over but stayed on his feet and quickly walked to the glass-smothered bathroom where he dug around for some supplies. He found some cotton wool, a few plasters, a couple of more appropriate dressings and a big bottle of TCP. He was also both pleased and amused to find a pair of tweezers lurking in Keats's personal grooming collection. After rounding up the items he set off for the bedroom, still a little surprised by his own offer of help.

He found Keats sitting on the bed, his face almost blank. He had used up a wealth of emotion in his outburst. Now he was empty. He glanced up as Simon came in.

"You found something?" he asked quietly.

Simon held up his haul.

"A few things," he said.

Keats frowned at the bottle.

"I fucking hate the smell of TCP," he commented.

Simon gave a sigh as he slowly, cautiously crossed the room.

"You've not got much of a choice in the matter, I'm afraid," he said sternly, "unless you want to get your head infected. Might have to amputate." He sat down nervously on the edge of the bed, fearing he could flip at any second, lashing out at him without a second thought. "I'm afraid this is going to sting," he warned.

He thought he heard Keats whisper, _"Nothing more than I deserve,"_ under his breath but he wasn't sure.

Feeling like an extra on Casualty, he unscrewed the cap of the TCP bottle and poured a little onto a piece of cotton wool.

"I told you I hate that smell," Keats coughed a little as Simon held it to his head.

"Well it's for your own good," Simon admonished like a mother, starting to dab away at a little of the blood. It soon became clear that there were more pieces of glass still stuck in his forehead than he realised and he decided to tackle those first. Putting down his cotton wool for a moment he reached for the tweezers instead and cautiously prepared to extract the first piece he could see. It came out cleanly and easily, although Keats gave a small, sharp intake of breath to demonstrate that its extraction hadn't been pain free. "Sorry."

Keats wrinkled his nose as another smell made itself known above the TCP. It wasn't one he had been expecting. Certainly not a scent he associated with Simon.

"Talking of smells," he began, "why are you smelling like…" he sniffed again. The aroma of alcohol hung in the air. "…like _Gene Hunt!" _He noted Simon's expression change at his words and realised he'd touched a nerve. A tiny flicker of a smile began to creep onto his face. The human side was starting to slip away again. "Well well, what's happened to Simon Shoebury, eh? Taking leave from the lemonade brigade?"

"It's none of your business," Simon said coldly, slowly pulling another chip of glass from Keats's forehead.

Just a fraction of a gloat started to fill Keats's expression as he began to take in Simon's appearance. He was looking significantly different to the Simon Keats had been used to seeing some months ago. His previous smart, clean-shaven appearance had been replaced by a half-hearted stubble and overgrown hair that he hadn't bothered to have trimmed in months. His change of lifestyle had started to take its toll too. Week after week of sleepless nights had endowed his face with dark circles beneath his eyes. The late nights and alcohol had left his skin lifeless and dull. His eating habits that cycled wildly from eating nothing but crap for days on end to living on caffeine and tranquilizers for a week had left his face gaunt and drawn and his arms and chest bony while the beginnings of a pot belly could be seen starting around his middle from the beer.

"You're not quite the fresh faced boy you used to be, are you, Simon?" he enquired, one side of his mouth twitching into a sneer, "how many units have you put away tonight?" he watched Simon's face remaining neutral and firm as he continued to probe, waiting for a reaction. "Let's put it in terms you understand - are you in Gene Hunt territory yet? Or can you still count the number using all your fingers and toes? _OW!" _he flinched as Simon pulled a rather sharp shard from his head.

"I told you," he said through gritted teeth, "none of your business."

"You're not looking after yourself very well these days," Keats observed, "need to borrow my razor?" He stared directly at Simon who never once met his gaze, his full attention focused on removing every trace of glass. "You're looking thinner than a toothpick at a tree convention. When was the last time you ate?"

Simon finally stopped seeing to his wounds long enough to look him in the eye.

"Look," he began angrily, "I can see you're starting to slip back into Monster Keats, so I'll finish this up and be on my way."

His words shocked Keats. They hit him more deeply than he could have expected them to. He found himself backtracking, a little voice deep within him saying words that the rest of him would never agree to.

"Please don't," he could hardly believe the words came from him.

Neither could Simon.

"What?"

"Stay."

Simon hesitated. He didn't trust Keats, no matter which part of him was speaking but there was something in that one word plea that he couldn't ignore. He started into his eyes, seeing a battle going on within. He swallowed involuntarily as something within him gave in to Keats's whispered demands. He didn't make any promises; didn't even say a word. He silently went back to examining his head for any remaining pieces of glass.

As Keats felt Simon's fingers slowly trace across his skin it sent a sensation through him that he couldn't explain. It was a shudder that started at his shoulders and spread through his body. It made his heart thump inside his chest. The sensation scared him a little so he drew back.

"Sorry, did that bit hurt?"

Keats looked at Simon slightly shocked that he had spoken. He licked his dry lisps and shook his head slowly.

"No," he whispered.

Simon returned to examining Keats's wounds without the faintest idea of the effect his fingers had. He removed one more piece and decided he was almost there. Then it would be time for the TCP again. He was sure Keats would have a few things to say about that.

"You didn't answer my question," Keats said out of the blue. Simon's eyes darted to him. "How long has it been since you ate?"

Simon retuned to the job in hand. He didn't want to get into a conversation about his welfare.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled.

"That didn't answer my question," said Keats as Simon's empty stomach gave a long, hollow and agonizing howl. He noticed Simon swallowing awkwardly and saw a pink glow spread across his cheeks. "But _that _did," he concluded.

Simon ignored both Keats's pointed remarks and the racket his stomach was making. In truth, he hadn't eaten in forty-eight hours except for a handful of sweets someone had given him in the office the day before. The only things he'd consumed were several coffees and half a bottle of scotch.

"This is going to sting," he mumbled, getting out the TCP again.

Keats wrinkled up his nose at the smell. He waited for the inevitable stinging sensation as a lump of cotton wool collided with his head before asking,

"So? What happened to you?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Drinking? Looking ten kinds of scruffy. That's not the Simon Shoebury I thought I knew."

"That's Simon Shoebury-Thomas," Simon snapped.

Despite the stinging of the antiseptic gracing his temples, Keats gave another tiny smirk. He even chanced a laugh.

"So that's it," he said, "Oh woe is you. Parted from your nearest and dearest. Let yourself go to rack and ruin."

"What do you care?" Simon snapped.

"I _don't_ care!" Keats smiled, "that's the thing!"

Simon drew his hands away from Keats's wounds abruptly. He stared at him with anger flashing through his eyes. That was it.

"I see you've flipped that switch," he said, "that's all you're getting from me."

He put down the TCP and the cotton wool then slowly got to his feet. His head spun from the alcohol and lack of food as he swallowed down the bile that Keats's quick change had brought his throat.

"Simon," Keats called quickly. Despite his common sense flagging it up as a very bad idea, Simon glanced back at him.

"What?"

"There's some leftover Chinese in the fridge," he said, "if you fancy it."

"I told you," Simon snapped, "I'm not hungry."

"Or a bottle of whiskey in the cabinet beside you."

Simon hesitated. He licked his lips and looked Keats in the eye. He seemed dead-straight between man and monster. It was a gamble Simon decided to take.

"Alright," he whispered then paused. "Where do you keep your glasses?"

~xXx~

The smile that Keats gave in reply to his question should have been a warning to Simon, but it wasn't. He should have taken it as a sign that there was no telling which side of Keats he would be confronting at any given point during that night and not to even take the risk, but he ignored it. He had enough alcohol in his system already to block the voice inside his head telling him this wasn't a good idea but not enough to stop him from controlling his own actions. He was staying of his own free will.

He found the glasses just where Keats said they would be and took them back into the bedroom where he found Keats had already brought the bottle out of hiding and onto standby. He held it up as Simon approached.

"What's your pleasure?" he asked, "single? Double? Or shall we go straight for the Gene Hunt school of drinking and fill it to the brim?"

Simon ignored his question as he sat down and set the glasses on the bed.

"Stop comparing me to Hunt," he said coldly.

"Touchy," Keats raised an eyebrow as he began to pour. He noticed Simon's expression looked as hollow and empty as his growling stomach sounded. This Simon wasn't as much fun to taunt. Something was missing. What was it? His spirit? "What happened to you, hmm? You used to have so much more… life."

Simon lifted his glass and stared at Keats across it. He looked a little aghast.

"Yes," he said with anger, "I used to be full of life. And then I died."

"Everyone dies sooner or later," Keats reminded him.

Simon took a large mouthful of his whiskey.

"Well aren't you a little ray of sunshine?" he snapped. He put down his glass and went for the TCP again. "I need to finish this. Then I'll be out of your way."

He reached forward to dab at his wounds again but stopped in his tracks by one lone finger gently tracking a line around his eye.

"The size of those bags," Keats commented as Simon pulled away sharply, "when was the last time you slept properly?"

"Probably the last time I had a conversation with you, " Simon snapped, "change the record. I _get_ it. I look a mess. I _am_ a mess. What does it matter? There's no one around to see. Not like I've got anyone to go home to at the end of the day, is it?"

Keats raised an eyebrow as he took a drink to numb the pain.

"I should have guessed really," he began, "we're back to that old chestnut. _Oh, woe is me, I'm all on my own, Robin's far away and I've got no one_."

Simon stared at him. He lifted his glass, downed the rest of his drink, flinched a little and set it back down.

"There you go," he said, "Transformation complete. Man to monster. I'm out of here."

Keats stared on in horror as Simon stood up, weaving a little from side to side, and began to leave.

"_Stop!" _the note of panic in his voice made Simon hesitate and look back. "Don't."

Simon's jaw was firm and set with disappointment.

"I'm not staying anywhere when the monster comes back out," he said quietly.

"But it's _not!" _Keats's voice had a different quality, a different sound. It was softer, tinged with sadness. The sarcasm and the wit had slipped away as quickly as that flash as evil had left his eyes. Simon stared at him. He wasn't sure what to say. "Stay. Please?"

Simon hesitated for a few moments. He took a deep breath.

"Keep treating your head with TCP," he said quietly, "you don't want it to get infected."

He turned again and took a step towards the door but a more urgent call held him back.

"_Help_ me." Those were not words Simon expected to hear. Looking behind him one more time, Keats's expression had changed completely. His expression was twisted with pain, a victim in the battle waging in his mind. "Please, Simon?"

Simon swallowed. He gulped so hard he wondered if Keats could hear it. His words had taken him by surprise. He ran his tongue around his lips nervously.

"What do you mean, _help_ you?" he hissed.

Keats stared back at him.

"To be human," his eyes begged even more sincerely than his words.

Simon swallowed again as Keats's gaze bore into him. He felt his stomach beginning to churn. It was more than a response to the alcohol hitting his empty guts. It was a strange feeling of anxiety, of anticipation, of nervous energy. He couldn't express the way it felt. Inexplicably he felt drawn back to Keats, one slow step at a time until he found himself sinking onto the bed beside him again. He stared at him.

"I really want to believe you," he found his voice shaking, "I want to believe that you want to break free of this. I want to believe that you want to be a man, not a monster," he hesitated. "But I… I _don't. _Because I've tried so many times… and you get just so far… and then _it_ takes you over again and I end up feeling…" he trailed off. He found he couldn't finish that sentence and hung his head. "I _want _to believe."

"And now you've turned into Agent Mulder."

With anger flashing through his expression Simon got quickly to his feet.

"See? Like _that -"_ he clicked his fingers, "- he's back."

Keats felt panic gripping him inside like a ball of fire in his stomach. The sight of Simon moving to the door filled him with fear.

"Don't go!" he cried but this time Simon didn't turn back, "Help me. _Help me!" _to his dismay he found his eyes quickly filling with desperate tears, "please, Simon! You're the only one who can!"

He knew it was wrong. He knew he should carry on walking and not look back. But once again Keats' words halted him in his tracks and he hesitantly turned around one more time, his hands starting to tremble a little. He found a very broken man in front of him.

"Why?" he whispered before he could rein himself in, "what's so different about me?"

"Because," Keats's voice was almost inaudible, "you're the only one who really _wants_ to."

Simon stared at him. He didn't want to look into his eyes, didn't want to see what was reflected there within, but he couldn't help it.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

Keats seemed to swallow with nerves.

"You're the only one who's tried to see the man," he whispered, "and not the monster."

Simon's heart thumped hard against his chest. Keats's words had taken him unawares and he couldn't begin to make sense of them. He began to feel strange, his palms began to sweat and his arms and legs started to feel strangely numb. He slowly backtracked toward the bed and sank down beside him again. As he looked seriously at Keats there was something different about the man looking back. It wasn't just his head that was covered with gashes - the look in his eyes was wounded too.

Simon's lips felt very dry suddenly and his tongue did little to moisten them. He glanced at the second glassful of whiskey on the bed, the one Keats had barely even touched yet, and thought about grabbing it and downing it for courage. He began to feel very much out of his depth suddenly. Usually it was being confronted by Keats the Monster that made him feel that way. Now, Keats the Man had just the same effect.

"What makes you think I can help you?" he wished his voice didn't tremble so.

"Because," Keats's voice wavered too, "you keep trying."

"And I keep failing."

"But you don't give up."

Simon swallowed hard as Keats's eyes drew him in. He blinked and tried to shake their hold. It was like the hospital rooftop, all over again, except - for Keats - there was nowhere to jump. Not unless he went out of the window. And he suspected Keats had already had enough of broken glass for one night.

Then something happened.

'_Oh shit,'_ Simon's thoughts practically screamed inside his head, '_no, not that'._

To his abject horror he felt himself stiffening down below; swelling and stirring as the man before him caused his heart to race. He gulped audibly, trying to focus on something - _anything_ - to make it go away.

'_It's been eight months,'_ Simon reminded himself, '_eight long months. You're going to get excited by anything. You got aroused when the green man at the crossing looked at you funny last week. Ignore it. It doesn't mean anything. It'll go away.'_

He became very aware that Keats was staring at him still, waiting for him to reply, to say something - _anything_. He could feel his hands shaking more with every moment that passed by and fumbled mentally to find any words, just to fill the silence.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered, "what can I do?"

Keats seemed to tremble also. Simon wasn't sure why.

"Show me," he whispered, "show me how to be human."

The words seemed to make no sense to Simon. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to fulfill that request but quite suddenly he felt his cheeks flushing.

"How?"

Keats didn't know himself. He hoped Simon would have the answers. He'd tried to bring through his human side so many times before that he just prayed he hadn't run out of chances. Echoing an action he'd taken on the hospital roof some months earlier he reached out slowly, his fingers shaking terribly as he did so, and pressed his hand against Simon's chest.

'_Oh no,'_ Simon flinched and held his breath, '_not that. Don't do that. I don't want you to feel my heart racing. Please, no -'_

His silent pleas had no effects as Keats's palm spread flat against his chest. Even through Simon's shirt he could feel it beating away, double time. He saw Simon flinch just a little.

"Just _help me_," he whispered.

The feeling of Keats's palm against him sent a shiver through Simon's entire body that flowed through his limbs, warmed his chest and finally settled between his legs where his stiffening instantly grew stronger. He swallowed again, increasingly aware how obviously his body was disobeying him.

'_Just don't look down there, Keats,'_ he begged silently, '_don't look down. Don't look at me there.'_

But as he made his silent plea his own eyes automatically found themselves inexplicably drawn to the same area on _Keats's_ body. The sight of a swelling lump right there between his legs caused him to gasp a little, a reaction he immediately wished he could take back. He looked away as quickly as he could and frantically hoped that Keats hadn't noticed his line of sight or his audibly shocked response to what he saw.

Unfortunately as he shifted his gaze back to Keats's face he saw where the man's own line of sight was heading.

'_Oh shit!'_ Simon cursed internally, '_Don't look, goddamn it! Shit! Shit!'_

Despite his best attempts to cover his burgeoning nether regions there was no hiding the lump in his trousers and the look on Keats's face proved he knew exactly what Simon was trying to cover up. His expression was a mix of surprise, fascination, a little horror and even a touch of delight. Simon froze, unable to move for several moments. He was fixed to the spot, trapped by Keats's ever deepening gaze. He swallowed as his mouth filled with saliva. His thumping heart was making him feel dizzy, or was that just the drink?

'_Shit, how much alcohol have I had? Too much to get out of this? Or not enough to get into it?'_

He realised Keats's hand was still pressed against his chest. That palm seemed to burn him, sending a deep heat through his shirt onto the skin below. Unexpected butterflies began in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't get rid of them. They flapped and fumbled around, tingling and twitching inside of him.

"Help me."

Keats's words spoke right to Simon's heart. He witnessed their effect at the pumping heartbeat increasing in strength and vibrancy beneath his hand. Simon could hardly breathe now, his lungs struggling for every hint of oxygen they could grasp. The butterflies turned into a deep, angry churning that had him midway between excusing himself to visit the bathroom with urgency and giving in to urges that he hated himself for feeling with every fibre of his body.

"_Help me._"

Keats's words came to him again and he stared into his pleading eyes. He feared that at any moment he could flip around and the monster could come forth but he couldn't tear his gaze away. No matter what he did, his eyes couldn't move from their focus.

"How?" his word was so quiet it could hardly be heard.

"_Make me human,"_ Keats begged him, his own voice so low Simon had to read his lips.

Simon felt a word forming on his tongue but it wouldn't quite move any further. His mind wanted to ask 'how' once again and his voice almost followed suit but the churning that built up inside of him answered that question in one very practical way. It burst forth from Simon as it became an explosion born of all the emotion, the pent-up anger and aggression, the deep running connection between the two of them, all mixed with the disturbing images from his nightmare and the loneliness, depression and desperation from being separated from Robin. They all collided inside him and exploded in an action he could never have predicted in a million years.

With the fastest of all possible movements he reached out and pressed his hand against the side of Keats's face. His skin felt a little cold to the touch, and the roughness of his six o' clock shadow could be felt by Simon's fingers. Then, barely pausing for a second and before he could change his mind he pulled his face closer, closed his eyes and pushed his lips against Keats's.

'_Oh fuck… what am I doing?'_

Inside he knew it was wrong. _So_ wrong. In _so _many ways But it was human. A very human, yet animalistic reaction to a situation that was brimming over with raw emotion.

It took a moment for him to feel Keats responding to his action, but suddenly the kiss wasn't one-sided any more. That shocked Simon as much as anything. Taken by the moment, he pressed his other hand to the opposite side of Keats's face and held him firmly, as though trying not to let him get away. Forcing him to confront it; to stay human. There was nothing more human than a kiss. Nothing in the world.

The thumping of his heart grew so loud and fast that he wasn't sure he would survive it. Was this a heart attack? Not in the medical sense, anyway. He found himself acting almost without realizing it, reaching forward and tugging Keats's shirt tails out of the top of his trousers, gripping the material and pulling it towards him, dragging Keats even closer. It wasn't until the moment their kiss ended that a sense of realisation and horror began to dawn on him.

'_Shit! What the fuck am I doing? This is Keats. KEATS!'_

He stared at Keats whose face reflected his own shock and dismay. For Keats it was the disbelief that Simon had reacted in such a way coupled with the overwhelming urges that were flooding him, the urges of desire for someone he hated with such a passion - for _Simon_.

"Everything I did to you…" for a second Simon noted remorse across his face. His words hit Simon like a fist in the guts. It was true - Keats had tormented and tortured him in so many ways, and yet there was still a part of Simon that wanted desperately to see the good in him. By the same standard there was a wealth of anger and resentment festering inside for all that Keats had put him through. With love and hate the two most powerful of emotions, and with such a fine line between then, at the mercy of alcohol and raw emotions that line became all too easily blurred.

Simon struggled to verbalise the intense emotion that was filling him. There weren't words to express it so he tried to put it into action instead. Slipping one hand inside Keats's shirt, he traced his fingers all the way up his chest until they closed over his heart. Simon could feel it pumping every bit as hard as his own. That sensation surprised him in a strange way. It brought home to him that, when it came down to it, there truly was a man underneath the layers of evil and darkness.

The sensation of flesh beneath his fingers only served to renew the swelling in his groin. It had been _so _long - so very many months since he'd felt the warmth of another man beneath his fingers, not since his final night with Robin. For all that had been said that night about helping Keats to discover the human side that lay within him, Simon couldn't forget that _he_ was human too. He had the same needs and urges as anyone else.

'_Eight months... eight long months…'_

Something took over inside of him. He couldn't explain it and he couldn't fight it. Something drew him. He grasped Keats by the chest, held him firmly, forced is lips upon his mouth and drew from him another kiss. This time there was nothing gentle about it. It was forceful and urgent, a desperate release of all the need and yearning that had built up through time.

He finally broke away to draw breath and looked intently at Keats, trying to read his expression. Was this what he wanted? He wasn't sure and didn't want to do anything he wasn't ready for.

Keats felt awash with confusion. The act of kissing Simon, feeling his hands on his body and his lips pressed to his was a sensation he'd never experienced before. It took him a while to realize why. It was because, for the first time, someone was directing passion and lust in his direction without stooping to drugging or exerting his hypnotic hold over them in order to receive the sexual pleasure he desired.

"Do you want this?" Simon asked him breathlessly, his fingers itching to reach for Keats's belt.

Keats wasn't altogether sure what he wanted. He just knew this was the most human he had felt in many years.

"_Please," _he whispered, "I _need_ this."

Simon wasn't used to hearing Keats ask for anything. He closed his eyes for a second and closed in on his face again, his kisses moving from his mouth to his cheek then travelling down his neck while he tried to unfasten the buckle on Keats's trousers. His hands were shaking and the alcohol was hampering his judgment so eventually he had to pull away, swearing profusely, and look at what he was doing instead.

"Fuck, stupid fucking fingers."

When he finally managed to unfasten the belt he was surprised to find Keats pulling his face back towards him again, and this time it was Simon at the receiving end of hot, frustrated kisses that moved all the way from his mouth to his neck. As he threw back his head he quickly managed to undo his own buckle and fly, the bulge inside his trousers desperately aching for release. He felt as though he could go at any moment. The need had never been so strong.

He tried to ignore the ring on his finger, the nagging doubts and the memories of the hundred and one times that Keats had tried to bring him harm. Instead he focused on dragging Keats to his feet, then pulled him across to the far wall where he pushed him back against the rough paintwork, pulled his trousers down to his ankles and roughly tugged down the boxers that were the only thing left standing between Keats and himself.

Simon gave a cough and a splutter to cover up a noise of surprise as he discovered once and for all that Keats's hadn't been bluffing in his continuous battle with Gene over who was the most gifted in _that _particular department. He'd heard enough of their arguments that he was too sick of it to care either way but could see now that Keats had every right to be proud of his package. Simon hated to admit that he had enough knowledge to make a comparison of the two. He'd been unfortunate enough to walk in on what could only have been described as a _stationery cupboard tryst _when he was in dire need of a biro some weeks beforehand. Alex's excuse that she had '_dropped a stapler'_ did not wash with him.

As desperate as his own need was he knew this was all about Keats, to show him what being human was all about. He had to focus on bringing him the kind of pleasure that was born of human need and emotion. Fighting the pangs of guilt that a fleeting thought of Robin sent his way he found himself down on his knees.

'_Oh god, what am I doing?'_

He couldn't fight it, and it wasn't even Keats and his hypnotic influence making him act this way. Before he could stop to think he'd closed his mouth around him, listening to a gasp that came from somewhere above him. He felt Keats's fingers slipping into his overgrown hair, sliding through the waves and that his style had fallen into over time. The sensation of that touch felt so good; so warm and intimate, exactly the kind of thing that he yearned for so deeply. The very thing he missed and needed back in his life. As his head moved back and forth he tried to push his own trousers down but his position meant that he could only get them down part of the way and they wouldn't move past his swollen groin. _Shit!_ Now what was he supposed to do? He was desperate, almost on the verge of scream with the need to relieve his urge.

The fingers moving rhythmically through his hair bought his attention back to the focus of the night. Concentrate on Keats first_; then _Simon would get his. He'd come this far. He had to show Keats that being human was worth fighting for, that the emotions and sensations humanity would bring were worth every part of the struggle. He felt strangely scared of hurting him or scaring him. He didn't want to move too fast. He reached up and placed one gentle hand against Keats's waist for security and reassurance to show him the softer side of a physical act. He had a feeling Keats's sex life had not included a lot of softness or intimacy before. The moans that came from the subject of his lust gave him courage to move things up a gear. He began to gain confidence now. Faster he moved; harder and faster, back and forth until suddenly a sharp pain in his head stopped him from moving.

At first he couldn't work out what the pain was or where it was coming from, but all too suddenly the cause became clear. Keats's fingers were no longer running smoothly through his hair, instead they were gripping it severely, pulling it hard while the fingernails of one hand were slowly sinking into his scalp. Simon pulled away and gave a pained cry but the fingers began to twist and grip him even harder. With some effort he managed to fight the hands hard enough to look upwards where he saw a different Keats staring back at him.

'_Oh, no… no, no, no…'_

"Come on, Simon," he glowered, "you're not going to leave me hanging are you?"

He pushed Simon's mouth back onto him and leaned back, closing his eyes in a pleasure that was developing a darker tone with every passing second.

'_Oh God, he was so close to being human… he's never going to beat that evil side. He's never going to make it._

…_And why am I still doing this?'_

Despite Keats changing and contorting back to the dark man that had plagued Simon for so long, he couldn't stop. Didn't _want _to. Something about Keats had a hold over him, a hold that went beyond the physical grasp he had on his head. He couldn't fight it. He couldn't fight the need to carry on, to give Keats exactly what he wanted.

When two hands roughly pulled him away he gave a little gasp of shock. He'd been anticipating that his services would be required until Keats found some relief but the sneering face that greeted him had other ideas.

"I don't think you're doing it properly," he glowered. Simon was about to protest that Robin had never complained but before he had a chance Keats dragged him to his feet by his hair causing him to yelp and cry. "Don't you think we ought to do this right? If you're going to make a bent copper out of me," he gave a laugh at his own joke as he roughly shoved Simon toward the bed, "I think you should do it right."

With his trousers halfway down his legs and alcohol addling his mind Simon was in no position to think clearly. Did he _want _this? He wasn't sure. Did he _need_ it? _Fuck, yes. _Eight long months, it had been. Eight long, lonely, frustrating months. He didn't care if it was the man or the monster, he still needed it, and he needed it badly.

He closed his eyes as he felt Keats's strong hands grasp him and position him over the side of the bed, pulling his trousers and his boxers down then throwing them aside. He braced himself for what he knew wasn't going to be an easy ride, flinched as Keats's hands grasped him hard around his waist then pushed him forward and prepared to enter.

'_Shit… no lubrication…'_

Simon's face contorted in pain as Keats's entry was rough and hard. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt tears spring to them from the shock. His hands gripped the duvet, his nails burrowed into the material to take his mind away from the brutal entry and the violent motion as Keats slammed him back and forth against the side of the bed. It had been so long... So many months… he wished he didn't want this so badly but he couldn't even lie to himself.

He tried to turn his head around, to catch a glimpse of Keats behind him but he pushed his face back away from him.

"Did I say you could look?" he gasped through gritted teeth. He wasn't intending to let Simon see his '_sex face'._

Simon could only gasp and flinch in return. It was like going back to his very first time. Just as painful, desperate and humiliating, just in different ways. His need was growing greater, so anxious was he for release that he begged,

"Please… you have to help me. _Touch_ me."

He heard Keats give one loud guffaw between his depraved panting.

"This isn't your night, Simon," he sneered as though he had been able to read Simon's earlier thoughts, "this is about _me._"

Simon's face twisted in agony as his need grew stronger, his desperation increasing with every thrust he felt from Keats. He tried to reach down to take care of himself but Keats wasn't pleased to see that, pushed Simon's hand back onto the bed and jammed himself in harder.

"What did I _just tell you?_" he hissed, his speed and pleasure increasing, "this is _my_ night." Just to prove his point, he took hold of Simon's hair with one hand again while he came closer to the climax he'd been chasing, grasped it tightly and ensured that Simon knew who was in control. He took pleasure in the desperation he could hear on Simon's breath, denying him the release he ached for with every inch of his body.

But that wasn't Simon's call. It was time he understood that.

"You used to taking charge, are you Simon? Is that the way it was at home, always down to you?"

He let go of Simon's hair and grasped his hips tighter and harder, letting his nails sink into the flesh beneath them. He heard Simon voice a gasp and a moan, somewhere between pleasure and pain.

"You used to being in control?" he breathed, "Always at your own pace, always the way _you_ want it? Somehow I can't see Robin taking you like this." He noted with glee that Simon gave an agonised sob at the mention of Robin's name. "He's the sub, is he? Always waiting for you to say the word? Waiting for you to take the reins?" He listened to Simon as he gasped and moaned. "You ever been fucked, Simon? _Really_ fucked?"

A clash of emotions collided inside Simon; the desperate need for release as Keats continued to get what he wanted, a strange and increasing feeling of lust toward him and the crippling sensation of guilt about what he was doing.

'_Oh my god… in the morning… what am I going to do in the morning?_

_Not sit down, that's for certain.'_

"I'm going to show you what you've been missing out on, Simon," Keats's voice broke up a little as he gasped for breath, "Robin was never enough for you, was he?"

Simon tried to protest. Robin was all he needed. All he _ever_ needed, _or_ wanted. But Robin wasn't there. Robin would _never_ be there. It was just Simon; lonely, frustrated Simon who yearned and longed for nothing more than for Keats to reach around and release the desperate throbbing that wouldn't go away.

"You know how long I've waited for this?" The tone of Keats's voice grew darker, "I've wanted to show you how it's done since I first met you," he heard Simon give a cry, "I should have done you for real_, that night_. And I bet you would have wanted it, wouldn't you, Simon? I bet you'd have taken every… last… _second…"_

With one last hard thrust and a grunt that would play through Simon's memory forever, Keats felt a rush of ecstasy surging trough his body as he reached a pulsing, explosive climax born every bit as much from the delight of finally taking Simon as from the physical pleasure. That was _it _now. He had the final bargaining chip, he was certain. Keats felt satisfied in more ways than one.

Pulling himself roughly out of Simon and grabbing Simon's discarded trousers to clean himself up with, Keats didn't give a second thought to the man he'd taken so roughly. Simon shook as he slowly straightened up and awkwardly turned around, becoming all too aware and self-conscious that he was naked from the waist down and that his own desperate need was staring him in the face. It was blindingly obvious for anyone to see. He breathed deeply, desperate for Keats to return the favour and waited for him to take him in hand and give him the relief he craved, then stared aghast as Keats let his soiled trousers fall to the floor, walked casually over to the bed and drew back the duvet.

"_Hey!" _the word escaped Simon's mouth before he could change his mind, "W-what about me?"

"What _about_ you?" Keats's line of sight travelled downward and he gave a sneering laugh. "Not tonight Simon. Bit messy for me."

Simon's cheeks flushed and his eyes reflected the frustration and anger building up inside of him.

"You _owe _me!"

Keats took one last look at Simon's manhood, then climbed into bed.

"I'm not doing the lackey work," he said, "You can go and finish yourself off in the bathroom." He rolled over and pulled the duvet over his body. "I want you out my flat by morning. Now, let me get some sleep. I've got a splitting headache."

Simon watched in dismay as Keats showed his conscience had no qualms about letting him drift straight off to sleep. He began to shiver, partly from the cold and partly from the sheer horror of what he had done. Suddenly the alcohol left his system all in one go and he became very, very sober indeed. A dreadful anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach as he sank to the floor. Staring at the shuffling body beneath the covers in the bed beside him he asked himself how it had all come to this. The self-loathing began to boil up inside of him as the full consequences of his actions began to dawn upon him.

He had practically given Keats a license to own him now. How could he face Gene and Alex after this? How could he ever look them in the eye? What was Keats going to bribe him to do in order to keep silent about this? He owned him now. He owned his ass, and he owned his soul.

He threw his head into his hands as the worst guilt of all washed through him. The ring on his finger was a symbol of what Robin meant to him, no matter how many layers of time or reality kept them apart. He had no idea whether he was supposed to move on and meet someone new or to wait until Robin rejoined him in Gene's world one day and they could carry on from where they left off. There was no rule about this in the _So Your Lover Is Still Alive While You've Passed On?_ Handbook. In fact, there was no handbook.

But even so - if Robin had wanted Simon to find someone new, he knew there would be one name on the 'banned' list that Robin would absolutely not condone under any circumstances.

"_Keats,"_ he whispered.

The churning of his stomach and the burning in his chest were fuelled by the bile his own actions caused him to create. It hadn't been the alcohol. It hadn't been Keats's hypnotic hold. He'd _wanted_ him. And for Simon, that was the single hardest thing to comprehend.

With one night, one mistake, Simon's whole world started to fall apart so badly that, for what it was worth, he might as well have been seeing stars.


	8. Chapter 7: Beautiful Life

**Chapter 7**

There was a hospital room. She was pretty sure that's where she was. She tiptoed closer to the bed, listening to the machines bleeping around her. It was so cold and clinical, devoid of warmth and feeling. A figure lay in the bed and even before Alex could see who it was she already knew.

_That's me, isn't it?_

She moved closer. She knew she was going to have to see it for herself. Slowly she reached forward and peeled back the covers but to her utter shock instead of finding herself under the sheet she found a smiling Molly.

"_Time to come home mum!"_ she said happily as the sound of a single baby's cry rang through the room and a flat tone from a monitor brought her out of the dream.

She sat bolt upright, her hands clutching her chest as her heart beat at a terrible pace. She could hardly breathe, couldn't get her breath under control at all. She felt herself trembling and wiped beads of sweat from her forehead as she glanced down at Gene beside her. He grunted a little and rolled over. Thank god she hadn't woken him, that was all she could think.

Her dream had terrified her. It had been some time since she'd dreamed of her hospital room and it disturbed her enormously. She felt dizzy and sick and there was a part of her that wished Gene had woken up after all so that he could have at least wrapped her in his arms, told her to stop being so soft and soothed her back to sleep.

She slowly climbed out of bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom to the lounge. Her head was in a spin and she couldn't get her thoughts straight. She sank onto the couch and rubbed her forehead as her mind went back to the worries she'd been swamped with before she finally got to sleep.

"_Shit,"_ she whispered as they all came crashing down on top of her again. She shook her head and stared at the single full glass of wine still standing on the table. She felt sick even looking at it.

Now that she'd finally started to move past the denial that she'd been putting up around her symptoms over the last few weeks all the pieces were starting to slot into place. Things had been stressful and that could have caused any number of things. What with Shaz coming back on the scene and all that terrible pub business it was no wonder she'd lost her appetite and felt so tired all the time.

She let out her breath slowly with a deep sigh. Was she just completely overreacting?

"I _can't_ be," she whispered. It seemed impossible, She was far too old, surely. OK, so her aging was occurring at a reduced rate in Gene's world and she had no idea how old she actually was chronologically but she knew she was still getting older, little by little. She wasn't quite as spritely as she used to be. She'd slowed down a little, put on a few pounds, maybe the occasional wrinkle or two around her eyes but she knew she was doing alright on it and Gene never had any complaints.

Ten years they'd been practicing safe sex. Ten years of condoms. They'd practically been keeping Durex running by themselves. Then all of a sudden they'd just _stopped._ She knew what triggered that – it was after she returned from 2011 and she'd discovered that her other self had been busy in the bedroom Olympics with Jim Keats. That almost put a wedge between her and Gene but as soon as they'd managed to get past that bump in the road the condoms had been forgotten.

At first she was sure it was Gene's way of proving to Alex that he could separate out what he'd seen on the video between the other her and Keats in the basement of Fenchurch West with his Bolly. But as time went on they didn't start getting back into the safe sex habit again. They just… stopped being careful. They didn't talk about it. They had never had a discussion about what they were doing. They'd just stopped.

And to be fair, the way Alex's libido had been since she returned to her body, the cost of the condoms would probably have bankrupted them anyway.

She sighed and put her head in her hands. Just how much sex had they been having since she returned? Going at it like rabbits with the condoms out of the equation, what had she expected? What had _he _expected for that matter?

"God, what the hell is Gene going to say?" she whispered. She honestly didn't know. It wasn't as though they'd ever sat down and had a conversation about children. It wasn't like he'd ever said "no way, not now, not ever" or they'd talked about what it would mean to have a child. They'd just never spoken about it. Not a word. They'd just done the sensible thing for all those years. With her body still breathing in 2011 Alex knew that she could wake up in the real world at any time and she didn't want to leave a child behind. She knew how hard that was from the other side, missing Molly while she was in Gene's world. There was no way that she wanted to go through it the other way around.

Maybe finally making a choice that she wanted to stay had played a part in the lack of protection? Maybe subconsciously. For _both_ of them. But even so, they'd never talked about it and she'd certainly never seen Gene as a father figure. She loved Gene and wouldn't change a thing about him but she had visions of him accidentally taking a baby bottle to work instead of his flask and getting all pissed off when he found he had formula instead of scotch, or trying to fit a baby seat in the fiat and then chasing after a bunch of armed blaggers with a kid in the back. Gene didn't seem to _'do'_ parenthood.

Maybe she was just being paranoid, she thought to herself. She'd never felt this bad when she was pregnant with Molly. Maybe there was something else going on? She'd never had morning sickness this bad for a start. She'd never felt so tired either. She felt drained, as though she had no energy left in her body. Maybe there was another explanation. Perhaps it was still Gene's mouldy pasta that was doing her in, although even in her deep rooted denial she couldn't convince herself that she'd been suffering from a 3 week case of food poisoning. And she knew that she'd been getting a little bigger 'up top' lately, a fact confirmed confirmed by the snugness of her bras and the fact that Gene had spent the last month talking to her cleavage instead of her face.

She wandered into the kitchen and ran the water until it was cold, then poured herself a glass and took a sip. Her stomach felt unsettled, as though the call of the bathroom sink would make itself heard soon. She walked slowly to the notice board and switched on the light. It blinked a couple of times then filled the room with light. Her eyes moved to the 12 month calendar at the side of the board, looking for the little red ring. _17__th__ February._

"Shit," she closed her eyes and nutted the board with her forehead. She knew it had been a while but she didn't think it was that long. Maybe two months, not three. She hadn't really been keeping track. Her periods had been getting further apart so she hadn't really thought… and she had been under so much stress.

Her hands moved to her stomach where she smoothed down her silky pyjamas and peered down at her waist. She'd been right about her belly, it was changing. She'd felt bloated and swollen on and off for a while but this was different. It felt like it was hardening, becoming firmer and curvier. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew she'd put on a bit of weight, her skirts hadn't been fitting right for a couple of weeks but she just didn't realise -

"_Shit."_ That seemed to be the only word she could think of saying. She felt very stupid suddenly. It wasn't like she and Gene were a couple of overexcited teenagers. They knew the risks and they carried on regardless, and after so many years of doing the sensible thing too.

She still didn't know, not for certain. She knew the signs were there but she knew they could have been down to any number of things.

"Why did we never have that bloody conversation?" she mumbled. If only she knew where Gene stood then she'd know whether to be happy or excited or scared or anxious. As it was, there was only one thing she knew for sure she was feeling, and that was bloody horribly sick. She dashed to the bathroom where she found herself closely acquainted with the toilet bowl and all her worries and fears became a little bit more tangible.

When she finally felt settled enough to leave the room she fetched a clean blanket from the airing cupboard and walked slowly out to the couch where she sank with an anxious sigh and pulled the comforting cloth around her. That was where she stayed with her thoughts her worries and – because she felt she was allowed – her hopes and a tiny touch of excitement. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, where her nightmares kept at bay for once.

That was where Gene found her in the morning, all curled up on the couch, one hand resting on her stomach, the other tucked under her cheek as she lay. Her thoughts were as churned up as her insides but right there and then she looked more peaceful than Gene had ever seen her.


	9. Chapter 8: High and Dry

**Chapter 8**

Simon scrubbed until his skin was raw but it didn't wash away the guilt. He stayed in the shower for so long that the water changed from hot to tepid to stone freezing cold but it did little to stop him feeling dirty and used.

As the horrible truth dawned on Simon while he watched Keats falling asleep without a second thought for his actions he could hardly cope with the guilt and the despair. The gravity of what he'd done hit him with a great force and he would have done anything to die right there and then.

He hardly knew how to cope as the truth sunk in. He wanted to scream, he wanted to escape his own life. He had never hated himself so much before. He dressed quickly with trembling limbs, left Keats's flat and walked home howling in anguish. One he arrived back he stripped naked, threw all the clothes he was wearing in the bin so he'd never have to look at them again and stepped right in the shower where he scrubbed and lathered and rinsed over and over but it made no difference. The guilt and the dirt remained.

How could he have betrayed so many people with that one act? So many people whom he loved and cared about so much. Robin, Gene, Alex, Kim – oh god, how could he have done this to all of them? His own feelings on infidelity deepened the layers of guilt as he realised just what he'd done.

The part he found the hardest to come to terms with was that he did it of his own free will. It wasn't like Kim and Alex under the influence of the drugged wine and the gas and air, he did what he did because he wanted to. He knew there was alcohol involved but it was more than that. He got caught up in a moment and he _wanted_ it.

He scrubbed again at his torso as he tried to work out why he'd felt so drawn to Keats. There was something that he couldn't explain and he hated himself for that. It had gone back further than that night – there was that moment on the hospital roof; that very strange moment where something… almost… happened. And there had been so much anger and so many battles between the two of them over so long that things had exploded in an unexpected way.

Keats had been on his tail from the moment he first arrived in Gene's world in 1985 and then he literally followed Simon to the ends of the earth to get '_the one that got away'._ Oh god, what the hell was he going to do? Keats finally had him in the palm of his hand.

He finally turned off the water as he realised that the dirt wasn't going to come off through washing. The dirt was made of guilt, engrained in his conscience. He thought about Gene and Alex. How was he ever going to face them again? How was he ever going to look them in the eye when he'd quite literally slept with the enemy? And what about Robin? He'd felt little brushes of reality from the other world, there had been moments when Robin was so close he could almost reach out and touch him. One day he was going to cross over and on that day Simon was going to know that he'd have to tell him what he'd done.

He stepped out of the shower and dried his face with a towel. He stared at himself in the mirror. God, who the hell was that mess of a man? He didn't recognise himself, that was for certain. He almost understood Keats headbutting the mirror now. The temptation to copy him was very strong.

This was it. He'd reached the lowest point of his life. Well, technically the lowest point of his death.

He shook his head, horrified at what he'd become. What would Robin say if he saw him like this? He couldn't bear the thought of it. He needed to do something, he needed to learn from this god-awful night and find a way to change.

Quickly he dressed in a smart, clean suit, all pressed and perfect. It had been a while since he'd made an effort to look smart, or even vaguely presentable. He found his hairdryer and blow dried his hair for the first time since he arrived in Gene's world, finally getting rid of the curls he hated that kept creeping in. He took out a razor and gave himself a thorough, close shave ridding himself of the constant stubble he'd been wearing for months. Finally he saw a different man starting to look back from the mirror. One he recognised. There was nothing he could do about the dark circles under his eyes right then but it was a start.

By now it was dawn and the day about to begin. He sat at the kitchen table, the first morning that he had woken up knowing Kim wasn't there to greet him, insult him over coffee and head off to work together. Kim's departure had left a big gap in his life.

He even got a proper breakfast, a bowl of cornflakes, but he was so unused to eating proper meals now that he only managed half. It was a start though. It made a change from the black coffee and caffeine pills.

By the time he left for work, in his mind he knew it was a new beginning and time to turn over a new leaf, but the one thing he couldn't get rid of was the crushing feeling of guilt. He was wearing it on his sleeve like a badge and he didn't know if he could ever get that stain guilt to budge.

~xXx~

"This is your Gene Genie alarm call, Bolly."

Alex opened one eye and looked up at Gene who stood in front of her with a steaming mug.

"Hmm? What time is it? She asked quietly

"Tine you got up and dressed," he said, "Fenchurch East won't run itself.

She slowly sat up and shook off the blanket that she'd snuggled down in, then took the mug from Gene.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Her stomach felt more settled now and she thought she just might be able to manage that. Maybe she'd gotten her morning sickness out of the way early for the day.

_Oh stop, it, Alex, it's not bloody morning sickness_, she told herself crossly, _you don't know anything for sure yet, Stop getting paranoid._

"Didn't expect to find you on the couch," Gene commented, "not yearning for yer old days are you? Couch and TV, that was the Drakey special, wasn't it?"

Alex gave a tired smile.

"Just couldn't sleep very well last night," she said quietly.

Gen sat opposite and stared at her.

"Things on yer mind?" he asked.

"Yes," said Alex, "well, one thing… sort of." She bit her lip a little awkwardly and put down her mug. "Gene, there is one thing that's worrying me," she drew in her breath. This wasn't an easy subject to approach with no idea what reaction she was going to get. "It's… I've not been feeling… a hundred percent recently," she began.

"Oh halle-bloody_-lujah!" _Gene threw up his hands, "finally she notices! Been worried sick about you, Bolly. Waiting for you to go all transparent and trip the light fantastic back to two thousand and bollocks again."

"I don't think it's that," Alex said quietly but Gene continued.

"You're seeing the station doctor. Today. That's an order."

"You haven't had the authority to give me orders for years," Alex pointed out.

"You seemed to listen to me when I told you to get the handcuffs the other night…" Gene began but Alex cut him off.

"This is serious gene," she said, "I'm worried –"

"Me an' all," said Gene, "but right now I'm worried that the clock seems to be telling me we're ten minutes late and you're not even dressed yet."

Alex looked at the clock on the wall and cursed.

"Shit! I had no idea it was that bloody late – why didn't you wake me, Gene?"

"First time I've seen you looking relaxed in weeks," said Gene. Alex scrambled to her feet and trudged to the bedroom to fetch some clothes.

"Funnily enough I stop feeling quite so relaxed when my morning routine has to be completed at the speed of a game in the Crystal maze," she said.

_Not a good time,_ she told herself. She'd have to find some time at work. She needed to talk to Gene ASAP but that didn't include while she was trying to dress, clean her teeth _and_ drink a coffee at the same time She'd already dipped her toothbrush in the coffee twice and tried to clean her teeth with a pair of tights.

Finally she was ready to go as Gene hustled her out of the door.

"Stop fiddling with yerself, Bols!" he said as she tugged at the top of her skirt.

"Bloody thing's shrunk in the wash," Alex mumbled, going a little pink on the cheeks.

As she trudged towards the car with Gene just behind her she cursed herself for being in denial for so long. Even though she still didn't know for certain, the symptoms were ganging up on her and making it impossible for her to think of anything else but the tightness of her skirt and the sense of nausea that just wouldn't leave her alone.


	10. Chapter 9: In Too Deep

**Chapter 9**

Gene and Alex passed Simon in the corridor and did a complete double take.

"Bloody hell!" cried Gene, "who the hell's this and what's he done with Shoebury?"

Simon stopped walking and stood still for a moment. He took a deep breath and slowly turned around but as soon as he met Gene's eye he had to look away. He already felt himself turning red with shame.

"Just smartened myself up a bit," he said quietly, "that's all."

"And you're not half an hour late, wearing sunglasses and clutching an alka seltzer box," Gene commented.

Simon shuffled uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I know I've been off my game lately –"

"Off your game? You lost the bloody game somewhere down the rubbish dump!" cried Gene.

Alex put a hand on his arm to halt him.

"Gene," she began, "Simon looks very smart and he's making an effort. Stop making him feel self conscious, let him get on with his work in peace, I'll buy you a latte and we'll go and have a little talk."

Gene hesitated.

"A latte?" he repeated. "How many sugars?"

"Just this once we'll go for seven," sighed Alex.

Gene hesitated again, then nodded. Finally he turned back to Simon.

"Liking the effort, Simon," he said, "keep it up."

"That's an unfortunate choice of phrase," Simon muttered as he began to walk away but before either he could get to his office or Gene and Alex reached CID all three had the biggest shock of their entire lives. Heading in their direction was a figure that no one expected to see, and certainly didn't _want_ to see.

"Good morning, good folk of Fenchurch East," he sneered, "and what a lovely day it is out there. Makes you feel good to be alive, doesn't it?" he gave a laugh, "well, _almost_ alive…."

Gene stared. The bile rose inside of him.

"Keats," he spat.

Simon had never felt so horribly sick in all of his life, even after half a bottle of scotch. It was the one single thing he had not been expecting. He had no doubt that Keats would have been tracking him down to wind him up at some point but to walk brazenly through the station had never even occurred to him. His mouth fell open as he stared.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he cried.

Keats turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"Now that's not nice, Simon," he said with a pout, "I was so looking forward to working alongside you too."

"Working alongside _– what?"_ Simon almost drowned in his own spit as he tried to comprehend what was happening. He glared at Keats who just smiled back. His appearance had changed a little, a move inspired by a head full of glass. His usual dark waves had been pulled forward to cover his forehead in a style not dissimilar to Robin's albeit shorter. That shook Simon up for a start. The hair covered many of the wounds, with a couple of plasters just about visible beneath them.

"Got a proper explanation for us, Jimbo?" asked gene, "No? Good. Let's ask one of those nice burly officers to escort you from the premises. Just got a new recruit, you see. Used to work in a hospital but fancied a change of career." He turned around and called somewhere behind him, "_Geoff…"_

Keats turned visibly pale for a moment, but realised Gene was bluffing. He turned his sneer up a notch.

"Here on official business," he said, "looks like we'll be working together."

"We'll be working on yer _funeral_ plans together," Gene told him.

"Got full approval from your Super," said Keats, "there's a case we're working on. Crosses into your patch and looks like some of your team have been doing a bit of groundwork on it too. Little shrew called Billy Hocker, known to have worked with Nailer. Looks like he's trying to make a bit of a name for himself and we need to nip it in the bud."

Alex stared at him, completely speechless. She didn't know what the hell was going on and couldn't even hazard a guess. Eventually she said,

"Superintendent Fletcher would never let you set foot in this station, you'll pollute the water supply."

"Why don't you go and ask him then?" Keats asked, raising an eyebrow, "see what he says." He peered around behind Gene and Alex towards CID. "I'll need an office. You're not giving me that grotto in the basement again. I need to be up here in the hub of CID."

"Sorry, no room at the inn," said Gene.

"I see you have a spare desk over there," said Keats, nodding his head in the direction of Kim's old desk. Gene's blood began to boil.

"If I let you sit on that chair Stringer would turn in her grave," he said.

"Yeah, well," Keats rubbed his nose, "we all know she's not actually_ in_ her grave, don't we?" He turned to Alex. "In fact, she's thriving out there. Isn't she?" he developed a look of great malevolence as he started making a _Bzzzzzzzzz_ noise in her direction and she took a step back, a little more alarmed by this than she ever was by him smashing up CID years ago.

"Gene, he's doing his bee impression again," she said, hiding a little behind him.

"Look, Jimbo, it doesn't matter to me if you're a wasp, a bee or a box o' bloody hornets. Take yer joint investigation, and yer new Britpop hair and get your arse back to the puddle of slime you crawled out of."

"Simon knows a thing or two about arses," Keats's stare turned to him, "don't you, Simon?"

Simon thought he might just boil alive on the spot. His anger, his shame and his guilt turned him bright red all over. Maybe he was going to spontaneously combust, he thought. Would that even be such a bad thing? At least he'd be out of this nightmare.

"Get out of this station," he hissed.

"Can't do that, Simon," Keats said amiably, "I'll take Kimberley's desk for now. And if that doesn't work out then I can always move into your office."

Simon looked at him in alarm.

"No bloody chance," he cried.

"I'm sure you won't mind cosying up for a few weeks," Keats told him.

"I'm sure _you_ won't mind being thrown out the bloody _window,"_ cried Gene.

"Temper temper," Keats scolded.

Gene stared at him, angry and anxious. What the hell was he _doing_ there? Where had all of this come from? He shook his head. He needed to find out exactly what was going on.

"Time for a quiet word with the Super," he said, "meanwhile, I'll ask Geoff to show you the way out. Unless you can find it yourself."

"I'll just get settled at Kimberley's desk," Keats smiled amiably.

"Do it and you'll be getting settled in the cemetery," Gene threatened as he began to walk away with Alex walking close behind.

Keats watched them go with a smile, then began to walk towards the office but Simon grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?" he hissed.

Keats raised an eyebrow.

"You know, after the special night we shared –"

"We _what?"_

"- I really expected a warmer greeting from you, Simon," said Keats, "I'm really quite hurt." 

"What do you want?" hissed Simon, "I mean, what you really want?"

Keats stared at Simon. His faux emotions gave way to the deep seated malevolence that always lurked underneath as he took a step closer and sneered right in Simon's face,

"I'm going to be your shadow, Simon. Everywhere you go, I'm going to be right there beside you, reminding you of what we did. No matter where you go, you can't hide. I'll always find you. I'll be there when you're working, I'll be right behind you in the canteen queue, I'll be pissing on your shoes when you go to the bathroom. I'll be right here, right next to you. Because I don't want you to forget what we did last night."

"I don't think that's possible," Simon spat, his nausea growing.

"I'm going to be your reminder," Keats told him, "and if you think you can escape me then your sordid little secret is going to go public."

Simon swallowed.

"You wouldn't," he shook his head slowly, "you wouldn't put your own reputation at stake. You wouldn't want people knowing you've had sex with another man."

"Man, woman, goat, it's all the same to me," Keats gave a smug smile as he quoted someone so close to Simon, yet so far away. Using moments from his time in Layton's body in 2011 gave him a feeling of power. He stepped a little closer until his nose practically touched Simon's and sneered, "I'm your shadow, Simon. Don't forget it."

As Keats strode away to try Kim's desk for size Simon was left standing, trembling in the corridor. How could he have ever thought for a moment that he could keep last night at bay? How could he have thought he could just bury it and move on from what happened without consequence? Now what had quite literally been the one night stand from hell had come back to haunt him in the worst possible way.

He'd turn over a new leaf, but the other side of the leaf was rotting and festering with bugs. He had a feeling life was about to become very, very uncomfortable indeed.


	11. Chapter 10: Slight Return

**Chapter 10**

The sound of the door being thrown open so hard that it hit the wall behind it with a _thwack_ could only mean the presence of one person.

"Good morning, Gene," Superintendent Fletcher sighed, putting down his pen, "I was wondering when you were going to arrive."

"You should have propped the bloody door open then," said Gene as he marched in with Alex right behind him. The super looked at them seriously.

"So our special guest has made an appearance already then?"

Alex looked alarmed.

"So you actually_ did_ give him permission to pull up a chair at our table and get his feet right under it?" she demanded.

"What the hell are you letting Jimbo get his size nines in this place for?" cried Gene, "You want to start seeing stars, Fletcher?"

The super folded his arms and looked at Gene. Gene could usually intimidate him, but not this time.

"For a man clearly smart enough to snap up a woman like DCI Drake and run CID you really can be very stupid sometimes," said Fletcher. For a moment Gene looked like he could very easily explode. "Do you really think I'd put down the welcome mat for DCI Keats if there wasn't a good reason for it?"

"With respect, _sir,"_ Gene said, not at all respectfully, "I think the only good reason to invite Jimbo around here would be to test out the new decapitation-based security system."

Fletcher leaned forward. He looked at them both.

"Not so very long ago you came here with a plan," he said, "a plan to get rid of DCI Keats by stripping him of his title and seeking a demotion. Now, I happen to think it's a very good plan." He leaned back and sighed. "So tell me, DCI Hunt, how you were planning to seek a demotion through exposing his work practices if you are not close enough to actually _observe_ any of his work practices?" He stared at Gene. Gene swallowed but he didn't reply. "There, you see? There's the flaw in your plan. It's not as though either of you are seeking a transfer, is it?"

Gene stared on.

"No, sir," he said a little tightly.

"Exactly. So how are you going to observe him anfd his work reactices if all you do is throw stones blindly over the fence? This isn't battleships, Gene. You can't give random co-ordinates and hope you get a direct hit. If you're going to do this it has to be done right. You need to be absolutely one hundred fucking percent sure of every single thing you take him to task over. Where better to observe him in action than right under your nose?"

Gene breathed deeply. He hated to admit it but he saw the logic.

"I still don't think letting Jimbo on the premises is a very good idea, sir," he said.

"He isn't going to be able to do a thing," said Fletcher, "he's on your turf."

"He's managed pretty well to pull up me turf and rake the bloody thing over before now," said Gene.

"I don't feel safe with him here," Alex said weakly, "You know what he's done in the past."

"But now you have a united front," said Fletcher, "you're standing side by side. You have DCI Shoebury to back you up too. There's no weak link in the chain. Whatever he tries, the only stars he'll be seeing will be the ones from when he passes out from the horror at getting his title stripped from him. Do you understand?"

Alex wasn't sure about it, not sure at all.

"I think that -" she began before she closed her eyes for a moment and gripped the back of a chair.

"DCI Drake?" frowned Fletcher, "are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," Alex lied. She put one hand over her stomach and swayed a little as the room spun, "could I just get a glass of –"

Whatever her intended beverage had been she was never going to get it. Her vision went black, filled with little sparklies as her head spun around in circles and her legs gave way beneath her.

"_Bolly,"_ Gene's alarm brought his heart to race so fast that he could barely breathe as he watched her crumple beside him.

"I don't think a glass of Bolly is going to do her any good," Fletcher said a little anxiously as he watched Gene drop beside her.

Gene looked up at him as though he was the biggest moron in the known universe.

"Call the bloody doctor will you?" he demanded.

Fletcher felt a little guilty about his poor taste joke and picked up the phone. He and dialled an internal number, then waited.

"Hello? Superintendent Fletcher here. Can someone find the emergency stretcher and bring it to my office? We have a DCI down."

"Oh, not the Easter Island heads and a stretcher," Gene shook his head, "last time I saw them with that thing they were taking it in turns to toboggan down the bloody stairwell." He shook his head. "I'll do it me bloody self," he said and began to lift Alex from the ground. "_Oof!_ Bloody hell," he mumbled, "me back's not up to this any more…"

~xXx~

The sound of the machines disturbed Alex more than she could say. Things were black and dark and she couldn't open her eyes but she could hear the noises, like they were right there beside her. There were voices too, they sounded serious. For a while they just floated around and stayed in the background but suddenly they began to sound a little clearer.

"…_asked for the new set of scans because there seemed to be no reason why she hadn't…"_

It all went fuzzy again for a while, then another voice, as clear as anything.

"…_concerned by what we saw. We're going to have to…"_

It was all a little hazy. Her head was swimming and she wasn't sure what she was hearing for a while until;

"…_can try to repair the damage but because this bleed was not identified sooner there may be…"_

That was the last thing she heard for sure. There were a couple of odd words, voices that sounded more familiar, even some tears but that was as much as she could identify before there was a strange rushing sensation and she slammed back into her body. Her eyes flew open and she sat upright as though on a spring.

"Gene?" she cried.

"Woah, Bolls, take it easy," Gene's voice was the most comforting sound she'd ever heard as she turned to see him sitting beside her. He reached for her hand which shocked her completely. This was Gene – she knew how he felt about her but he had never been good at showing it. This was out of character and for Gene to make a gesture like that she knew something wasn't right.

"Where am I?" she frowned as she looked around. It was a bit like a cell, all dank and grey. In the other side of the room the station's doctor was making a few notes.

"So you're back with us then?" he asked.

Alex froze. Had she faded away?

"What do you mean, 'back with you?'" she asked.

"You've been out cold for twenty minutes," the doctor told her. He turned to Gene. "Well, she's not drunk and she hasn't been in a fight, might be trying to fake a heart attack though."

Alex's mouth fell open.

"You see?" she cried, "that _is_ the sphere of his knowledge!"

"So what is the matter with her, doc?" asked Gene.

"Don't know," said the doctor, "I'd like to run a few tests. Might be anaemic." He annoyed Alex by pulling down her eyelids unexpectedly. "Has she eaten today?"

"No," said Gene, "hasn't eaten all bloody year."

"Don't exaggerate," Alex sighed.

The doctor wrote a few more notes up and then walked to the door.

"I'll get a needle, we'll take some blood," he said.

"Goody," sighed Alex.

Gene watched the doctor leave and then turned back to Alex. His expression changed. It became deadly serious.

"Anything you want to tell me, Bols?" he asked grimly.

Alex swallowed.

"Like what?" she whispered.

Gene looked down at her hand, still sitting there in his own.

"You used to go wobbly on me all the time," he said, "way back when. You stopped when you learnt the truth. You stopped fighting this place because you _knew_. Then," he flinched at the memory, "then you were getting too strong _out there_ and you faded away. You came back… and then I thought you made a choice."

Alex stared at him. Her eyes were hrowing a little misty.

"I did," she whispered.

"Saw you pass out like that in the Super's office, thought it was nineteen eighty one again," said Gene, "Seems like you're getting better. Out there."

Alex swallowed. It didn't sound that way from what she'd heard.

"I don't think you're right on this occasion, Gene," she whispered.

"Then _talk_ to me," said Gene, "Alex –" oh, she knew he was serious now, "you're bloody scaring me. I need to know," he looked her right in the eye, "am I losing you?"

Alex swallowed. Her voice a barely above a whisper.

"I'm more worried," she said, "about losing _you."_

Gene frowned. He couldn't make sense of that.

"How are you gonna lose _me?" _he asked, "I know you're queen of the bodyswaps but I'm not gonna fade away and wake up in control of _Bolly Two Thousand and Eleven."_

Alex didn't even crack a smile. She looked at him seriously.

"We need to talk, Gene," she said, "not here. No one's sticking anything in my arm and turning me into a pin cushion."

Gene hesitated. He knew that the last thing they should be doing was walking out of the premises when Jimbo was in town but there was a look of urgency on Alex's face he'd never seen before.

"Let's go back to the flat," he said, "the very least we need to do is put you to bed. Then we can talk without being disturbed by gimps in glasses."

Alex nodded slowly and allowed Gene to help her off the table. Her heart was racing as she leaned against him and he led her out of the room. It was time for the talk, no second chances, no excuses. Paranoia or pregnancy, she was going to have to tell Gene either way. But there was more on her mind now. The voices from far away had scared her. Something didn't sound good out there. There were more complications and her body was being pushed to the limit again.

But if her 2011 body was weakening so then why did she feel as close to crossing the line as she had in months?


	12. Chapter 11: Lovefool

**Chapter 11**

The drive back to the flat passed in absolute silence. It was no more than five minutes but it felt as though it took forever. Neither Gene nor Alex spoke; Gene was too scared to ask anything and Alex was too scared to tell. The first words spoken were as they pulled up outside and Gene tried to help Alex up the stairs.

"I'm fine to walk, Gene," she said but her head was still spinning and as she weaved a little she proved herself wrong.

"Stop being a bloody trooper and listen to yer better half for once."

"My better half?" Alex mumbled, "is that my legs or my chest?"

"Now you're even sounding like me," said Gene as he steadied her.

Alex felt like a bit of a fool as Gene hustled her into the bedroom and insisted she lay down but the more she complained the more anxious Gene became so she gave up protesting and allowed him to put her to bed. He sat beside her and looked at her seriously.

"Well?"

Alex sighed.

"I feel like I'm in hospital," she grumbled, "brought me some flowers?"

"I'm serious, Bolly," Gene wasn't in the mood for jokes. His stare cut her off before she could try to make another one. "So, what did they say?"

Alex frowned.

"Who?"

"Yer doctors," said Gene, "the ones round yer bed in two thousand and bollocks."

Alex drew in her breath. She wished she'd been able to make sense of it herself.

"I didn't understand much of it, Gene" she said quietly, "it sounds like there's some…" she swallowed, "complication."

Gene swallowed as he stared.

"So you did hear them," he said as a statement rather than a question.

Alex looked down. Her chest felt heavy as she tried to breathe. She couldn't look him in the eye.

"They said there had been new scans," she whispered eventually, "they found something… damage… " she looked down, "it's not sounding good for me out there."

Gene felt his lips turn very dry suddenly.

"Then," he began hoarsely, "if your body is thinking of taking a detour six feet under out there then why are you flaking out all over the place? Enjoying the pattern on the carpet?"

Alex shook her head slowly. She breathed in deeply and swallowed.

"I think I know why," she said quietly.

"Then for god's sake woman, are you going to tell me or am I going to die of anxiety?"

Alex closed her eyes.

"I feel so stupid," she whispered, "I should have known, I mean, well… I _should_ have guessed… I should have realised sooner, but it's not like it was before, so I didn't…"

"You're jabbering," Gene warned.

"Sorry." Alex looked him in the eye, but had to look away again. "When it happened to Kim I thought, how on earth couldn't she even know…"

"Stringer?" Gene frowned, "what's she got to do with this?"

"Nothing… not really…"

Gene looked a little alarm.

"She made you get something pierced, didn't she?" he said in alarm.

"What? _No!"_ cried Alex

"You got yer arse pierced and it's gone septic!"

"Gene, no!" she cried, "don't you think you would have noticed by now?"

Gene sighed and looked Alex in the eye.

"Well what then?" he asked. He mentally tried to go through the list of stupid things that Kim had done in the past. "Don't think you've been tangoing in the bedroom with Jimbo… you've not been playing truth or dare with Shoebury… haven't seen you raiding me scotch…" He watched Alex shaking her head slowly.

"It's a a bit more serious than that," she said quietly.

Gene stared at her. The words didn't seem to want to come. He swallowed as he looked at Alex's pale face and slowly it dawned upon him. The realisation came to him like a physical sensation over his shoulders that filtered through his whole body until he stared at her with a look of absolute shock across his face. "Shit, you're not –" he swallowed as she looked up and her scared eyes met his. "You are, aren't you?"

Alex hesitated.

"I don't know yet," she said quietly, "I haven't tested. I only realised yesterday. Well, I only_ let_ myself realise yesterday."

"_Shit,"_ Gene repeated, he put his hand to his face as his mind raced. "How long?" he asked.

Alex gave a little shrug.

"I've been all over the place the last year or so," She said quietly, "a month… two?" she looked away, "three?"

"Three _months?"_ Gene cried.

"Gene, my periods –"

"We don't mention that word," Gene flushed.

"- haven't been regular, I've no idea when it would have happened." She looked at him. "And let's face it, we've had plenty of opportunities."

Gene caught her eye, A sense of guilt came over him.

"Shit," he breathed.

"We've not exactly been careful lately," Alex said quietly.

Gen breathed in and out.

"No, we haven't," he said quietly.

"And we never talked about it," Alex bit her lip, "we never spoke about why we were giving up with the condoms."

Gene looked away.

"No, we didn't," he said a little tautly.

Alex felt her breath become a little staggered. She couldn't read his expression for once. Was he angry with her? Did he think she'd done this on purpose? God, she hoped not. She truly hadn't. While she'd had occasional pangs of regret about never discussing having children she'd never seriously considered it as an option. It just wouldn't have been wise in their position.

"Gene?" she said quietly, "talk to me?"

Gene rubbed his chin. He didn't want to look at her for a moment. He didn't want her to see the guilty look on his face. It took him a few moments to gather himself and take a deep breath, then he turned to her and said,

"Sorry."

A frown descended upon her face.

"What are you sorry for?" she asked.

Gene looked away as he realised what had been behind the abandoning of the condoms, from his side at least. Just as Alex had been denying her signs so he'd been denying something his male pride and testosterone had been leading him into.

His mind went back to the new year, to the day that Alex had told him how troubled she'd been by the fear that she could have been pregnant after the 'other' her went for a joyride on 'little Jimbo'. Her trauma and anguish at the thought of it had affected Gene deeply but even more than that was that nagging feeling of competition against bloody Keats. He realised, with some embarrassment, that he'd started to feel inadequate in the crown jewels department. Keats had already succeeded in knocking up poor Kim. And ten years of safe sex were all well and good but there had been an occasional slip up or a drunken night where the johnnies were out of reach or an accidental 'spillage,' and - nothing.

Hidden worries about firing blanks and not being a real man had come to the surface and been gnawing at Gene. Not that he had voiced them, or even acknowledged them to himself. While initially leaving out the protection had been a way to show Alex that he thought no less of her for what the 'other' her did with Keats, the decision not to resume using condoms had been, at least in part, caused by a stupid hidden machoness that had taken away his common sense and given him an overriding compulsion to – not to put too fine a point on it – sow his wild oats.

"_Shit."_

"You've said that a lot," Alex pointed out anxiously, "many more tomes and you're going to turn into Simon." She paused, "you never said what you were sorry for."

Gene looked at her. He wondered how long he'd been silent for before that last expletive. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Didn't exactly ask yer permission to go in… unattended," he said.

"I wasn't exactly rushing to reach for the condoms," Alex said a little guiltily. Her increased libido and the sense of freedom and release she felt from making the decision to stay had made her feel liberated in other ways too and she'd thrown caution to the wind.

Gene looked at her worriedly. His face was grave.

"You sure you're meant to get this ill?" he asked.

Alex shrugged a little.

"I didn't with Molly," she said quietly, "but I was a lot younger then." She looked away. "Thought I was too old to be honest." She looked back at him. "Maybe it's not that? Maybe I'm…" she looked embarrassed, "heading to the change."

Gene wasn't sure what to say.

"You say you've not tested yet?"

Alex shook her head.

"Not yet."

Gene rubbed his head.

"Christ," he mumbled, "well that's the first step. Get pissing."

"Helps if you have a test to piss _on_," said Alex. She rubbed her forehead. "Shit. I wish Kim was here."

Gene looked at her indignantly.

"_Stringer_?" he cried, "what d'you want _her_ for?"

"She was just really kind and calming when I had my scare after christmas," Alex said quietly.

"Listen, I don't need Metal Mickey to help me buy me own fiancée a bloody stick to pee on," said Gene.

"I never said you did!" said Alex, but the thought of Gene skulking around the family planning counter in Boots did amuse her in a funny kind of way.

"Right," Gene stood up, "I'll get you a bloody test. Go and fill yer bladder, drink four cups of tea or something."

"Maybe I should just go and get one myself," Alex sighed, starting to get out of bed but Gene held her back.

"You're going nowhere while you still look half bloody transparent," he said.

"I think it's better I just get it myself," Alex sighed tiredly, "you'll probably get flustered and come back with six tubes of toothpaste."

"I may stink of manly toughness," he began, "but I can walk into a chemist and buy yer a stick without losing the plot you know." He could see Alex still wasn't sure but the gauntlet had been thrown. "Stay there and rest yer ovaries or wherever the thing is," he said, turning a slightly unusual shade of red, "One thing to piss on coming right up."

As Gene left before Alex could cast aspersions on his pregnancy test buying skills again he found himself with his head against the wall, cursing himself for the carelessness they'd both suddenly succumbed to. If this was pregnancy then it certainly wasn't agreeing with her. He'd never seen her looking more unwell. He felt guilty and anxious and wanted to know one way or the other.

But as he started to walk again and trudged down the street, he adjusted his tie and gave the slightest hint of a smug smile.

"I might be a careless prat," he said out loud, "but at least I've got bloody good swimmers."


	13. Chapter 12: Something For The Weekend

**Chapter 12**

Simon could feel the shadow lurking in the doorway long before he looked up. He knew who it was. He tried to ignore him and hope he'd go away but ten minutes passed and the shadow didn't move. Eventually he allowed his eyes to rise in his direction.

"Just fuck off," he said, putting one hand to his head as he tried to concentrate on his paperwork.

"Is this how you treat all your conquests the morning after?" Keats asked.

Simon felt his blood boiling. His cheeks were burning as he threw down his pen.

"Get out of my office and get out of this station."

"No can do, Simon, got orders," Keats smiled.

Simon started to feel desperate and trapped. Where the hell were Gene and Alex? They'd left hours ago to see the super and had never came back. He felt out of his depth, humiliated, guilty and terrified of what Keats might do.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded.

Keats spread his palms.

"Just enjoying the company," he smiled amiably.

"What's it going to take to get rid of you?" Simon demanded.

"Well now," Keats began, "capturing Billy Hocker would see the end of the case so I suppose that would be a start."

"There is no case, is there?" Simon demanded.

"There's a Billy Hocker, there's evidence and there's paperwork, that makes a case in my book."

Simon got to his feet. He couldn't stand this, Keats wasn't even _doing_ anything – that was worse than just coming straight out with a threat. He shook his head slightly, trying to keep terrible memories of the night before at bay and marched to the door.

"Get out my way," he mumbled.

"Where do you think you're going?" Keats asked.

"To buy my bloody lunch," Simon snapped as he pushed past, shoving Keats against the doorpost. He felt himself shaking as he walked along the corridor at speed. How the hell had he ever been so stupid? How could he have let Keats use him that way? What the hell came over him? It was more than the scotch. He'd never hated himself so much.

He needed to get rid of Keats before he broadcast every detail of the night before to the whole station. Or had it serialised in the Daily Star, for that matter.

~xXx~

Gene wasn't really very good at this.

He walked into the chemist and had a moment of panic. Where the hell were the pregnancy tests going to be?

_Well, you buy one to find out if you're having a baby, right_, he thought to himself, _so it stands to reason that it would be with the baby food and nappies._

He made his way to the baby aisle but found nothing. So where else would they be?

_Maybe with the tissues? Because, you know, when you're 'cleaning up; after the main event… and then maybe a couple of weeks later…_

But no, there was no sign of them on the tissue aisle either.

Reluctantly he decided he'd have to ask. He spotted a member of staff stocking up a shelf and wandered nonchalantly across to her.

"Got a question for yer, love," he said.

The woman stood up and turned to him.

"Yes?" she said with a polite smile.

Gene cleared his throat.

"Where… d'you keep… yer things for women to pee on?"

The woman stared at him.

"Pardon, sir?"

Gene shuffled a little. He looked around to make sure there was no one who knew him and then said,

"Things for women to pee on. Can't find them."

The woman stared at him again but a look of realisation dawned upon her.

"_Oh,_ I know what you mean," she said, "wait just a moment."

Gene watched as she walked away. He tapped his foot and breathed in deeply. The reality of the situation was starting to hit him all of a sudden. If Alex was really pregnant then how would that change things? How would they both be able to carry on working? If Alex was so sick then should she be working at all? And what about _them?_ They'd never talked about children. How the hell was he supposed to learn how to be a father? He was set in his ways, only too lucky to have found someone like Alex who didn't want to change him. He couldn't imagine having to change his whole outlook on life to put a baby first.

He'd never thought about children. But then, he hadn't thought about having a life very much either. He was there to do a job, he always knew that and for very many years that's all he'd done. He was married before and his heart wasn't in it. He was going through the motions. His heart was in his job and that was all.

But something had changed over the last fifteen years. He'd met Alex. And she had a job to do too. Together they learnt there was more to life after death than working, but even so it was only in the last few months since Alex had made the decision to stay that he'd let himself live. Work, Fenchurch East, helping the souls who came his way – they were no less important to him than they ever had been. But now he placed equal importance on living his life with Alex.

"Here you go," the woman said cheerfully as she placed a large packet of _Tena Lady_ into his hands.

Gene stared at them.

Then he looked at the woman.

His eyes returned to the Tena Lady.

"She's up the duff, she's not bloody incontinent!" he cried.

"_Oh…"_ the woman slapped her forehead, "sorry… alright, I think I get it now." She went to take the incontinence pads away but hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want these anyway? If she's pregnant she might be wanting these in a few month's time… you know… sneezing can be hazardous…"

Gene's eyes opened as wide as his mouth.

"I don't even know if she'd pregnant yet and you've already consigned her to suffering twenty-four hour a day bladder control issues!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the woman felt flustered as she took the pads away from Gene and headed towards the family planning counter. She returned a few minutes later with two boxes. "Which one do you want?"

Gene looked from one to the other.

"Well, what's the difference?" he asked.

The woman looked at the boxes.

"This one's pink and this one's blue," she said.

Gene hesitated.

"Do you choose blue if you want a boy?" he asked.

"No, it's just the lines."

"Better not be lines, Gene mumbled, "I just want to buy the bloody thing and get home, I'm not queuing for hours."

"Not that type of line," the woman sighed, "look, lines appear on the test if it's positive."

"And if it's not?"

"You only get one line."

"Well where does the other line go?"

"It never appears in the first place."

Gene's brain was aching.

"is this some kind of bloody magic trick?" he asked.

"No," the woman sighed, "look, read the instructions and it will tell you everything you need to know. Now, which one do you want?" she held up the blue box. "With this one she can test from the day her period –" Gene coughed loudly, "- is due. Do you know when she's due?"

"Three bloody months ago," Gene mumbled.

The woman hesitated.

"Ahh… probably won't really matter then. Take this one."

Gene frowned.

"That one's pink," he said.

"Yes?" the woman wasn't sure where he was going with that.

"Well what happens if it's not a girl?" Gene demanded, "does a line still come up if it's a boy?"

"The lines don't test for gender!" fried the woman, "just to see if she's pregnant or not!"

"Then why are you bigging-up the bloody colours?" cried Gene.

"I'm not!" the woman protested, "I just want you to pick one so you can buy it and I can get back to my shelf stocking!"

Gene hesitated. His male pride wouldn't let him take the girly pink test.

"I'll 'ave that one," he mumbled, taking the blue.

"Fine," said the woman as she handed him the box.

Gene studied it. He took a deep breath.

"Now, am_ I_ supposed to piss on this thing too?" he asked.

"Not unless you believe you're a miracle of modern medicine," the woman told him haughtily and marched away before the strange customer could cause her to resign from her job in a fit of haste.

Gene sighed and stomped to the counter with the test.

"Only asking," he mumbled, "some people… no bloody help at all!"

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: It has just occurred to me that I should probably mention this! After I completed my NaNoWriMo story featuring Kim and Robin I started a sequel which crosses over with this story but because the main focus of the rest of the story is on Kim and Robin it's on FictionPress, not FFnet. The first few chapters (excluding prologue and chapter 1) deal with what's actually happening to Alex's body in 2011. The story is called 'Will You?' and link to the story is on my FFnet profile.**_

_**Also, this chapter is dedicated to MorganaNK and her favourite subject! :-D**_


	14. Chapter 13: One and One

**Chapter 13**

Simon placed his tray on the counter and slid it along. He really was trying to make an effort to eat properly again but Keats had ruined his appetite. He wasn't sure what his stomach could handle. Eventually he picked up a plain cheese and tomato sandwich and put it on his tray.

"Oh no, I think _this_ would be far more appropriate, don't you?"

The sound of Keats's voice over his shoulder sent a cold dread through his body. He looked around to see the man lurking behind him as he put Simon's sandwich back and replaced it with a baguette. "Nice and long. Sturdy. Reminds me of last night, how about you, Simon?"

Simon threw the baguette back at the counter and picked up his sandwich again.

"Fuck off," he muttered as he moved the tray along.

"You're a bit touchy this morning," Keats said with a smile, shuffling along behind him, "do you always get this emotional after sex?"

"That was not sex, that was a bloody drunken mistake," Simon felt himself shaking with anger and shame.

Keats reached for a long chocolate éclair and put it on the tray.

"Oh look," he said, "the place is just full of reminders today!"

"Tell me what you want or leave me alone," Simon spat as he put the éclair back.

"I just wanted to share a nice tasty lunch with you," Keats smiled.

"Why don't you try eating my fist?" Simon threatened but his words had little effect.

"Oh, _no!"_ Keats's eyes lit up, "what about _this_ one?" he picked a large banana from the fruit bowl and sat on Simon's tray, "what a reminder! Almost like a tribute in fruit!" he saw Simon's face growing angrier by the moment, "wait…" he swapped the banana for a smaller one. "This one's more reminiscent of you though, isn't it?"

In a fit of temper Simon shoved his tray to the ground and marched out of the canteen with angry screams from the woman with the fat arse calling after him.

"You'll never eat in this establishment again!" she cried after him.

To Simon, that was actually quite a relief.

~xXx~

Gene opened the front door and walked slowly through the lounge.

"Bolly?" he called as he poked his head into the bedroom. There was no sign of her. "Bols?"

Where the hell had she gone? She'd not been stupid enough to go back to work had she? But a moment later he heard her voice.

"_I'm in the bathroom, Gene."_

Gene frowned, changed direction and headed to the bathroom.

"Thought you were supposed to be 'olding it for when I got home with this thing," he mumbled.

There was a tired sigh from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Not that end, Gene," Alex said quietly.

Gene cringed a little and stood with his back to the door, folding his arms.

"Best if I wait here then," he said as he heard the water running and the sound of someone swilling their mouth round with mouthwash. When the taps stopped running finally the door opened slowly and Alex appeared in the doorway. If it was possible she looked even worse than when she'd passed out earlier that morning.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

Gene held up the chemists' bag.

"Got it," he said, "and six tubes of toothpaste."

Alex sighed.

"Knew it," she said, but before she could take the bag she started to wobble and sway. Gene caught her a moment before she toppled over.

"Woah, Bols, back to bed for you," he said sternly.

"Got to pee on that thing," Alex mumbled but she was too tired to argue as Gene half-carried her to the bedroom. She looked pale and drawn as he helped her into bed. "Not sure how much longer my bladder's going to hold up gthough," she complained.

Gene sat on the bed beside her. He took the test out of the bag and handed it to her.

"Bloody chemist woman, blinding me with science," he grumbled.

Alex took the box and a strange, distant smile came over her face.

"_Clearblue_," she said quietly, "that was the one I used with Molly."

Gene frowned.

"So blue really doesn't mean boy?" he asked.

"No, why?"

Gene shook his head.

"Nothing," he said.

Alex opened the packaging and started to read the instructions.

"Unwrap… pee… wait fi-_five_ bloody minutes?" she shook her head. "Thank god this didn't happen fifteen years ago. You used to have to wait an hour or something for the test to work." She carried on glancing over the instructions, "and tests were more like bloody chemistry sets."

Gene pointed to something on the page,

"Bugger. Says you have to test in the morning."

Alex frowned. This really was an old test.

"That's just because hormone levels are stronger in the mornings," She said.

"Shouldn't you wait until the morning then?"

"Gene, I could be a couple of months, I don't think my hormone levels are going to be low!" she hesitated, "although I really don't have a clue when I ovulated."

"Gene put his hands over his ears.

"That is on the list of banned words," he mumbled.

"But I don't know when my ovary –"

"And so's that!" cried Gene, "honestly, Drake, when this is over I'm making a list o'words and putting them on the fridge."

"On the fridge?" frowned Alex, "won't that put you off your eggs?"

"Don't mention eggs!" said Gene. He hesitated. "And besides, didn't seem to have any trouble getting me eggs this time, did I?"

Alex looked down. The instructions dropped to the bed.

"Are you as scared as I am?" she asked quietly.

"Bloody crapping it," said Gene. He took one of the tests from the box and handed it to her. "Go on, Bolly. Get pissing."

Alex hesitated and stared at it for a moment before she took the test from his hand. She took a deep breath, climbed out of bed and slowly walked to the bathroom. Whatever the result, she knew things wouldn't be quite the same again.

~xXx~

Simon marched up to the photocopier room, file in hand. His breathing hadn't slowed down and neither had his pulse. Where the hell were Gene and Alex? Hadn't they been to see the Super yet? He was on the verge of exploding already when he entered the room to find Keats loading up one of the trays with paper.

"Hello again, Simon," he smiled amiably.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Simon demanded.

"Just running off a few copies," Keats smiled amiably, "except I ran out of paper." He waited while the copier realised it had been filled and sprang into life. "Ahh, here they come now!" he said.

To Simon's immense horror hundreds of copies of Keats's backside started pouring out of the machine. They seemed to be flying out of every possible corner, covering the room.

"_Fuck!"_ he cried, backing away. He noticed for the first time that Keats's belt was undone.

"Hope I haven't left my imprint on the glass," he said, "wouldn't that be embarrassing?"

Simon turned and ran, the horror of the copies proving too much for his brain to handle. He shook his head and swore profusely as he fled back to his office and closed the door behind him. He couldn't take this. The torture was too much. He knew he'd made the worst mistake of his life. He knew it was a mistake that would cause everyone to suffer. But the fact that Keats wasn't even making demands of him or threatening him made it so much worse somehow.

"How the fuck am I going to get out of this?" he pleaded to the sky as he felt himself trembling.

Just when he thought he'd hit rock bottom the floor seemed to have opened up right beneath him.

~xXx~

Gene stood outside the door and waited. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt so bloody scared in his life. How ridiculous was that? The number of things he'd seen… things he'd been through… but a little stick was going to give him more anxiety than any number of criminals.

He waited for any signs of her taking the test but he couldn't hear a thing. He'd been sitting there for several minutes when the door opened and Alex stood there, looking haunted and scared.

"Well?" Gene asked.

Alex hesitated.

I couldn't do it," she said quietly.

"What?" Gene frowned, "why not? Bolly, yer bladder's so full it practically ran to the bathroom by itself!"

"I don't mean I can't '_go'_" sighed Alex. She looked down. "I can't do it." Gene exhaled loudly and stepped towards her.

"Putting it off isn't going to change the result, Bols," he said quietly.

"I know," Alex said, "but whatever the result is it's going to change things between us," she looked him in the eye, "isn't it?"

Gene swallowed as he looked at her. He nodded slowly.

"I know," he said.

"We've never event talked about it," said Alex.

"I know."

"So how do I know what sort of Gene Hunt response I'm going to get when I take the test?"

Gene sighed and closed his eyes. He shook his head a little.

"Bolly, Gene _Hunt_ doesn't know what kind of Gene Hunt reaction you're going to get when you take the test. I won't know until it happens." He put his hands to his head and that feeling of guilt crept in again. He supposed it was probably time to confess his part in the issue to Alex and walked slowly into the bathroom where he sank to the floor with his head in his hands. "You don't have a set of balls. You don't know how much they rule you."

Alex frowned.

"Pardon?"

Gene glanced at her as she sank down beside him.

"They do funny things to a man," he said, "I think one of 'em contains the sperm and the other one contains what's known as male pride."

"Gene, I'm not following this," Alex sighed. She wasn't in the mood for riddles. She was scared, her bladder was fit to burst and her stomach was already threatening to take her for another ride on the sink rollercoaster.

Gene looked at her seriously.

"It's good to know if the little guys are finding their way," he said, "make sure they know what they're doing."

"Well by the looks of it they seemed to know exactly what they were doing," Alex said a little awkwardly.

"I'm trying to say," Gene began, "I didn't just get condom memory loss."

Alex stared at him. She wasn't completely sure what he was trying to say.

"Were you trying to…" she paused.

"Send an undercover detective inside yer inner circle," Gene put it tactfully.

Alex cringed a little.

"Not quite the phrase I had in mind.

Gene looked down.

"Sort of," he said gruffly, "didn't even know I was doing it." He paused and frowned, "I mean, I knew I was 'doing it', I just…"

"I know what you mean," Alex sighed, not wishing to get into the double entendres just yet.

Gene sighed and shook his head as he stared at the floor.

"Didn't think this one out, did I?" he said, "I'm not the best father figure. Am I?"

"How do you know when you've never been a father?" Alex countered.

"There's a reason I've never been a bloody father," said gene.

"Yes, it's called 'contraception'."

"It's called being irresponsible," said Gene, "can you see me with a baby seat in the Fiat?"

Alex gave an ironic laugh.

"Actually, that same thought was crossing my mind earlier," she said.

"You see? You don't think I've got what it takes either."

Alex shook her head slowly and let out her breath.

"Gene," she said quietly, "I think you're doing yourself down. Because I think you've had as much practice as being a father as anyone can ever get."

"Last time I held a baby was in nineteen seventy six," mumbled Gene, "and I dropped the bugger."

"How many people have you fathered?" Alex said quietly, "how many people whose hands you've held, whose noses you've wiped, who you led through life." She watched him turn to her. "Every one of those people who have passed through your world. If you think all you've been to them is their Guv, you're wrong."

Genre thought about her words. It was true in a way. Sometimes he had been more than just their boss. He knew what she meant and even if it didn't calm his nerves about actual fatherhood it was a sentiment that he really appreciated.

"Not the same as having a baby though, is it?" he asked.

Alex breathed deeply.

"I don't know," she said, "what about Chris?"

They looked at each other and finally both laughed. They couldn't help it. Gene had to admit that Alex had a point.

"Aright, I was forgetting Chris," he said.

Alex smiled a little as she looked at him seriously.

"And besides, Gene, you're not the only one who's scared of the unknown. I was terrified when I had Molly. So scared I'd be a bad mother."

"You were a bloody good mother," Gene said.

Alex looked down.

"I really don't know about that," she said, "and you've never seen me in that role."

"I know how much you love yer girl," Gene said, "that's all I need to see."

Alex shook her head slowly.

"But there's so much more to being a parent than that," she whispered, "what kind of a mother was I to put her in danger with Layton? To end up here, leaving her to fend for herself? To choose you over her?"

"Bols, yer circumstances are completely different to anything anyone's ever been through. That doesn't make you a bad mother. That just makes you someone who had a special job to do."

"But there were other things," Alex shook her head, "when she was a baby I used to freak out about really stupid things. The first time she threw up just after she was born I screamed and panicked. I made the midwives clean her up while I hid in the toilet. They had to coax me out."

Gene looked at her incredulously, certain this was a joke but Alex's downcast face told a different story.

"Baby puke," said Gene, "that can get to anyone."

"But it shouldn't have done," Alex shook her head, "because I'm her mother, it shouldn't have mattered at all. But I freaked out completely." she took a deep breath. "and that was all so long ago… I have no idea what I'd do with a baby now. I've forgotten everything. I mean _everything_, Gene, and that's worse than being a mother for the first time because then people expect you not to know anything… when you've had a child they think you'll know everything!"

"Bolly –"

"And I'm too old. I'm _definitely_ too old. I mean, look at the state of me… my body's not up to this." She shook her head, "and I've become set in my ways… how can I adjust enough to look after a baby?"

"Bols –"

"And what if the baby doesn't like me? What if it knows I'm feeling all these things, getting so worried about it and it holds it against me –"

"Alex." Finally that stopped her ranting. She knew he meant business when he used her name. "Look at me." He turned her face around. "First of all, you need to calm down. Because if you are up the duff then raising yer blood pressure isn't going to help anything. Secondly, you're scared? Join the bloody club. That makes two of us. So yer not on yer own. Thirdly, you're talking bollocks. Because you didn't want to deal with yer daughter's vomit comet? And you're a bit out of practice? At least you _had_ some practice! So we both have to bloody learn. Makes me feel better about feeling like a bloody idiot with no idea which end I'm supposed to burp." He saw her give the tiniest of smiles. "We'll learn. Together."

Alex breathed in and out steadily. She felt the butterflies settling in her tummy. Gene's words began to sink in and she nodded slowly, then frowned a little as something began to dawn on her. She looked at him and said.

"Gene, let me get this straight," she cleared her throat, "am I right in thinking you were just trying to talk me _into_ this?" She raised an eyebrow.

Gene hadn't even realised what he was doing. He gave a slow nod.

"I think I was," he said quietly. He hesitated. Her expression seemed strange. It was a little more distant than he was used to seeing from her. "Admit it, Bols," he said, "that was just some kind of psychology bollocks to get me to see the other side, wasn't it?"

Alex looked at him a little nervously. He really wanted to believe that.

"You got me," she lied with a little smile, "that was my plan all along,"

Gene knew she was lying too. He'd rarely seen her having an attack of nerves like that. He cleared his throat.

"How sure are you?" he asked, "you know, about –" he indicated the general area of her stomach with his hands.

Alex took a deep breath.

"I don't know for certain." She admitted, "but I can't think what else it can be. Throwing up, exhaustion," she blushed a little, "ill-fitting skirts."

Gene hesitated. He looked at her seriously and knew that whatever the result they'd find a way to cope with any of the doubts they were feeling. Almost without thinking his hand slipped down to her belly in a motion which completely surprised her. She opened her mouth to complain, embarrassed that Gene was feeling the area where she seemed to have mysteriously expanded but Gene spoke before she had a chance.

"Do it, Bolly," he said. With his other hand he picked up the test and handed it to her. "just piss on the bloody thing. We're going to be fine."

That really was what Alex needed to know. They'd gone all around the houses about it but got there in the end. She nodded slowly and got to her feet. She clasped the test in her hands and ripped away the wrapper. With a nod, she looked at Gene.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered.


	15. Chapter 14: Place Your Hands

**Chapter 14**

As Simon stomped into the toilets he wasn't altogether surprised to find Keats already in there. He'd spent the whole day as his shadow and seemed to always be one step ahead of him. He had a black marker pen in his hand and he was standing inches from the wall.

"_Now_ what the fuck are you doing?" Simon demanded.

"Just adding our little adventure to the tapestry of CID gossip on the walls," Keats said amiably.

Simon's blood was boiling again. He didn't know how to contain his bile any longer.

"Get out, I need a piss," he spat.

"I'm not stopping you," Keats said, casting an eye in his direction, "Nothing I didn't see last night." He looked back at the wall. "Fair bit about you up here already," he said, "what's all this about tents?"

Simon ignored him.

"I'll go in a bloody cubicle," he mumbled, walking towards one and throwing open the door.

"Just enough space for me to share the news about our night though," Keats said happily as he held the pen aloft, "is _Shoebury-Thomas _hyphenated or not?"

That was the last straw. Simon couldn't take it any longer as he stormed back from the cubicle and snatched the pen from Keats's hand.

"That's it!" he cried, "no more. Get the fuck out of the station and leave me alone or I'll jam this pen right where the sun doesn't shine!"

"Wasn't a pen you were hoping to stick up there last night, was it?" Keats didn't let himself feel intimidated, not for a moment, even with Simon having a good couple of inches height advantage over him, "shares some of the same letters though…" his smirk grew, "is that the problem. Simon? Hmm? That why you're so taut and highly strung today? You're still all unfulfilled and frustrated." He stood so close that Simon felt his breath against his face. "I didn't see any evidence in my bathroom that you'd taken me up on my kind offer for you to go and relieve yourself. What happened, hmm? Go home all hot and bothered? All wound up like a coiled spring, begging for release?" He saw Simon swallowing, trying to keep his face free from the anger that was boiling over. "Howe long has it been now, Simon? How many months have you been here, separated from Robin, all by yourself, no one to lend a helping hand?"

"Get out of my face and get out of my life," Simon spat, shoving Keats against the wall. He walked at speed from the toilets, shaking with a mix of anger and abhorrent desperation that Keats kept stirring up within him, and trying to persuade his netherregions not to respond. He hated himself for it but Keats was making things stir again in a way that Simon knew was only going to get him in deeper. What the hell was he going to do now?

~xXx~

"I thought it was only men who got stage fright," Gene commented as Alex rather crossly washed her hands.

"Yes, well, I'm not used to peeing when, _A_, you're watching me and, _B_, I'm trying to aim for a target." He felt herself blushing a little. Taking a pregnancy test wasn't the most elegant thing in the world to do. She dried her hands and sat down next to Gene on the floor, the test turned downwards between them.

"So what now?" he asked.

"Now we have to wait," she said a little anxiously. Her heart was going at a rate of knots and her stomach was churning terribly. The waiting was the worst part. Now she'd done the test she knew there was no going back and no changing it. She looked at Gene a little worriedly. "Gene?"

"What?"

Alex hesitated.

"We haven't actually talked about what we'll do if it's negative."

Gene thought for a moment. She was right they hadn't.

"If no bloody lines appear," he began, "then what we'll do is this:"

He extended an arm around her and pulled her head against his chest. It was a move that Alex wasn't expecting. It had taken Gene fifteen years to get to the point at which he felt comfortable with moments of unexpected tenderness. His hugging motion wasn't exactly gentle, she'd seen criminals confess for less but it was a gesture that she truly appreciated. It made her feel warm and that she wasn't going to be alone, either way. Shed only just started to realise that, despite all her worries and fears, if the test was negative she was going to feel unequivocally shattered. She wondered if Gene was feeling the same way.

"Is it time yet, Bols?" he asked eventually.

Alex drew away a little and checked her watch.

"Almost," she said quietly, "another minute."

"Bollocks," Gene grumbled, "do all piss sticks come with an automatic time-slowing device?"

"Seems that way," Alex agreed. She took a deep breath. "I'm so nervous I could pee myself."

"Knew I should have got those bloody Tena things," Gene mumbled under his breath.

A few moments of silence passed. Neither of them really knew what to say. They'd run out of conversation until they knew one way or the other, one line or two, yes or no, positive or negative. Finally Alex checked her watch again.

"It's time," she whispered.

Gene glanced at her. She looked as pale as he'd ever seen her and terrified to boot. He took a deep breath, leaned forward and picked up the test.

"Right," he said. He cleared his throat, turned it over and studied it. Alex tried to read his expression but she just couldn't make it out. Her anxiousness increased as she watched him lick his lips.

"Well?" she prompted, her heart racing.

Gene looked her in the eye.

"Looks like our men caught the suspect," he said.

Alex stared on, slightly unsure what he meant as he handed her the test where two lines sat side by side. In that heartbeat, a whole world changed.

~xXx~

Simon burst into Gene's office, desperately trying to find him. He didn't care now who knew, he needed to get that slug out of the building as quickly as possible and he wasn't going to go on Simon's say so.

"Gene?" he cried, even though the office was clearly empty. He panted a little from his fast walk and from the desperation he felt through every bone in his body. He was nearing meltdown. He couldn't carry on this way. When it became clear that there was still no sign of Gene or Alex he reached for the filing cabinet, looking for the scotch but found Gene had not yet replaced the bottle he'd pilfered the day before. "_Fuck_," he exclaimed, closing the drawer and leaning forward against it.

The sound of the office door slamming behind him made him spin around with haste and he found Keats right there, pulling down the blinds. Simon swallowed and tried to move around the room, as far away from the man as possible.

"Come looking for daddy?" Keats asked, "Telling him the nasty boy in the playground is picking on you? Looks like there's no one here to hold your hand this time, doesn't it?" With a smile fixed upon his face he moved a little closer.

"Hasn't your head gone septic and fallen off yet?" Simon snapped, trying to mask his fear.

"What? Oh, that," Keats reached up to his forehead, "barely even feel a thing. Someone must have done a god job cleaning me up. Besides, the hair does cover most of it. Like the new look do you, Simon?"

Simon swallowed.

"I think a better look for you would be with a crucifix through your heart," he spat, "oh sorry, what am I saying – you haven't _got_ a heart."

"Funny, I thought you'd like the change," Keats said, putting a mock hurt expression onto his face. He continued to stalk Simon around the room until he was trapped in the corner, "remind you of anyone you know?"

Simon swallowed again. Yes it did, of _course_ it bloody did. It made him feel uncomfortable to see him modelling his haircut on the man he loved.

"If you're that interested in hair then leave the force and get a hairdressing apprenticeship," he hissed, trying not to tremble.

"I'm very hurt that you're ignoring all the effort I've made for you," Keats gloated, "I know you wanted me last night. I'm your type all over, right? Dark hair, dark eyes…"

"Yeah, but my type doesn't usually come with horns and a tail," hissed Simon but almost the moment he finished speaking he found to his astonishment that Keats's lips were suddenly up against his own as the most evil of men moved forward and pinned him to the wall. Simon struggled; he moved his head, tried to move away but Keats's kiss was forceful and strong and he wasn't going to let him go.

Hating and loathing himself for it, Simon felt himself beginning to stir again. He desperately tried to think of a way out of the situation and wondered if he had enough strength to overpower Keats but his body wasn't co-operating and every time he tried he found himself succumbing to the actions that Keats was inflicting upon him. Now he knew how Kim felt. Now he understood how she'd been trapped in that cycle for all of those months. He found himself giving in, closing his eyes and letting himself go as Keats's hands reached for his belt.

"_No,"_ he mumbled desperately but his body betrayed him as he found himself getting harder and stiffer with every passing moment.

"Wasn't very fair to you last night, was I?" Keats hissed a little breathlessly, "very cruel, leaving you to deal with yourself. "

And, oh _God,_ there it was; the sensation of hands around him. Simon groaned as the feeling ran throughout his body. _Eight months… eight fucking months…_

And then it happened. The very worst thing that could possibly happen – _happened_.

"_Shit!_ Simon…" Keats moved away in horror, "how long was that? Ten… twenty seconds? That must be some kind of a fucking record…"

All at once the pit of despair and humiliation that Simon had found himself languishing in opened up a little deeper and let him fall right through.

"Oh my _god,"_ he cried as he looked down at the mess. Her couldn't help it… couldn't stop himself… eight months with no warmth, not intimacy, no affection… certainly no passion. After the night before he was more than desperate, he couldn't hold back. He looked up at Keats, absolutely mortified as the man backed away and wiped his hands on the sleeve of Gene's spare jacket, hanging by the door.

"All I can say is, thank god I'm not a woman," he said, shaking his head, "you'd never last long enough to give me a fucking orgasm!"

"Oh _god,"_ it was all that Simon could say, his head in his hands, "oh _fuck_, what the hell have we done?"

"_We?"_ Keats looked disgusted with him, "My input was minimal." He opened the door and glared at Simon. "If I were you I'd clear up this mess before daddy gets back. Don't want him to know you've been getting up to no good in his private quarters, do you?" He shook his head and sighed. "What a disappointment. No wonder Robin;s on the turn."

"_What?"_

That was the last word Simon could utter as the door slammed behind Keats and he sank to the ground. He knew that was as low as he could go. He thought the night before had been as bad as things could ever get but he was wrong. Hot, angry tears began to fall. He'd been used again and he could have stopped it, but when it came down to that fateful moment he didn't want to. Keats had a hold over him, just like he'd had over Kim, and like the other Alex who'd succumbed to his will. Now he knew he was never going to get rid of the shadow that had followed him all day long.

As he sobbed his eyes out while he tried to clean up the mess he couldn't imagine how he was ever going to make things right. He'd let everyone down – especially himself. All he wanted was to curl up and die – and thanks to the fucking immortality that came with the job that was a fruitless wish indeed.

~xXx~

Gene pulled the duvet up around Alex's shoulders but she seemed to still be shaking a little.

"I'm fine, Gene, it's just the shock," she said quietly.

Gene brushed the hair from the side of her face and looked at her seriously.

"You sure you're OK?" he asked as he sank into the bed beside her.

Alex nodded and gave a little smile.

"Even though I knew I had all the sighs, I still didn't believe it until I saw the lines," she said quietly.

"Bloody dark lines an' all," said Gene, "how many you got in there?"

"There'd better be just one!" Alex said, a little worriedly, but she soon relaxed again and looked at Gene. "So we're really going to do this then?" she asked.

Gene took a deep breath. If he was honest he was shaking as much as Alex was. He let his breath out slowly and nodded.

"Looks that way," he said, "That's what the lines said."

"What about what _you_ say?" Alex asked.

Gene sighed deeply.

"Not going to pretend I'm sure I'm ready for this," he said, "not going to pretend I'm not terrified of this. But it's happened for a reason. Was meant to be." _And_, he added silently, _you're Bolly_. "We'll be fine. All of us."

"I'm having trouble believing it," Alex said quietly, a little smile beginning to grow as she thought about it, "All those years… I never thought I was going to be a mother again." She looked at Gene. "I never thought I was going to have the chance of having a baby here. With you."

Gene fought back a smug smile.

"Me balls are in full working order," he said.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"That's typical," she said, "not going to put in a good word for my eggs?"

"I told you, Bols," Gene began, "sperm in one, male pride in the other." His little smug grin faded as he looked at her seriously. "Something is scaring me, Bolly."

Alex frowned a little.

"I thought we went through all of this," she began but Gene cut her off.

"I don't mean the –" he found he was still in too much of a state of shock to say '_baby'_ yet. He indicated her middle instead, "the _double line_ situation. I mean you."

Alex frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

There was a strong, anxious look on his face.

"So you're knocked up," he began, "still doesn't explain why you fainted like a bloody damsel in distress earlier." he moved a little closer. "Doesn't explain why you heard voices from two thousand and bollocks."

Alex looked down. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"I know," she whispered.

"You're not doing well on it, Bols," he said worriedly, "baby at your age –"

"Hey!"

"Nothing you haven't said yourself!" Gene pointed out, then carried on, "your body's suffering. You've not eaten properly for weeks, you've thrown up everything you _have_, you're running on empty. You might be complaining about yer skirts not fitting any more but have you looked at your ribs lately? Or your arms?" Alex glanced down. She knew Gene was right. "I've seen more meat on one of those kebabs you get from the bloody canteen."

"I know," she said quietly, "I know. I _haven't_ been looking after myself. But it's been hard… my appetite's just gone and my stomach can't find anything that it wants to keep down."

"So keep looking," said Gene, "because you're fading away, no wonder I keep thinking yer gonna fade out." He looked at her with a deadly serious expression. "I'll feed you up. No protests. Don't care what you say about getting fat. Look at yer bloody arse, it's so bony even the chairs scream when you sit on them!" he sighed. "Tomorrow you're going to the docs. A proper doc, not one who's going to accuse you of faking a heart attack. Find out what you can do for this bloody all-day morning sickness."

Alex looked away and nodded slowly.

"OK," she said quietly. She started to feel so guilty for not feeding her body and the baby properly. She knew she couldn't always help that – she'd really been off her food and the sickness had been getting so bad that she had barely kept anything down, but she knew now she had to try.

"And there's a few ground rules," said Gene. Alex looked at him a little alarmed.

"What kind of ground rules?" she demanded.

"Number one, yer on light duties. Desk duties. Effective immediately.

"But –"

"Not arguing on this one, Bolly. No more chasing arsonists down alleyways. You're staying where you're safe." He sighed, "Second, we put the Keats plan on hold."

"Oh, _Gene –"_

"It's not safe having him lurking round the premises," said Gene, "we're not scrapping it, we're postponing it by nine months or whatever. We'll talk to the super tomorrow. Not letting that plan put any more stress on you or the," he mildly indicated her stomach again, "you know."

"It's a baby, Gene, you can say it." Alex sighed.

"Yeah. One o'them." He paused. "There'll be time for frying Jimbo when the sprog comes out." He sighed, "point number three, we do everything we can to keep it secret from the pencil-necked one. At least until it becomes too obvious. Don't want him trailing you around, commenting on me potency, and I'm not putting you in any danger."

Alex sighed.

"Finally a point we can agree on," she said. She looked at Gene. re seemed to have come to the end of his rules. She sighed but she knew he was right. They had to be sensible. "Alright," she said quietly, "I agree. Not altogether happy with them but I'll do it."

"Good," said Gene, he looked down at the tight band on her skirt. "And undo that for Christ's sake, give the poor thing room to breathe." He reached for the zip and slowly pulled it down, releasing her slightly rounded belly. She hated to admit it but she breathed a sigh of relief as the restriction on her stomach eased and she saw herself spilling out a little. She looked from her body to Gene. "You do realise my body's going to change," she said quietly.

"I am aware of this fact," said Gene.

"What if you don't like it?" Alex asked quietly. It felt like such a vain thing to say and she hated herself for it but she couldn't hep worrying that Gene would run a mile when her stomach started to grow or the pounds started spreading elsewhere.

"As long as you don't sprout a second head or your feet don't turn green then I can't see that happening," Gene told her. He found his eyes drawn to her slightly changing waistline. He hadn't noticed it before but then again in recent weeks Alex had been so tired that their rampant lovemaking had quietened down somewhat so he hadn't had as much opportunity to explore her body as he usually did. There was a part of him that felt awkward and embarrassed about it but curiosity got the better of him and he slipped a hand inside the gap between her skirt and her top to feel the slight curve that she'd developed. Her skin felt a little taut, the feeling different and exhilarating. He looked up and caught her eye. She seemed to have a momentary panic about her changing body but he silenced her with a kiss.

"Not one bloody word of complaint," he told her when the kiss ended, "cos you won't be hearing any from me." He hesitated as her stomach growled beneath his hand and he looked a little alarmed, "does that mean you're hungry or you're about to dash for the delights of the porcelain playground again?" he asked.

Alex looked a little embarrassed.

"A bit of both," she said awkwardly.

Gene suspected it was probably a little like that morning after, hung-over feeling. Needing some food in your belly but not wanting to end up hunched over the toilet bowl. He'd been there a few times.

"Well, see if the Gene Genie can find something the kid's not going to object to," he said as he got out the bed.

"I don't see how when _I've_ not found anything for weeks, Alex said quietly.

"Leave it to me," he said, "might not have morning sickness but I've got an 'undred post-scotch combinations to try on you."

Alex bit her lip and felt a strange feeling as she watched him walk away. A growing excitement mixed with the nervousness of someone who knew their whole life was about to change. She couldn't quiet explain it but something about Gene's manner since the news was confirmed had changed and it helped her to believe something – that they were going to be fine.

X

As he strode into the kitchen to raid the cupboards, Gene looked down at his nether regions. Funny how he almost imagined them glowing now. He practically heard a little fanfare playing through his mind when he thought about it.

"You've got a good sense of direction, boys," he told them.


	16. Chapter 15: Born Slippy

**Chapter 15**

Simon's head was in a very dark place as he walked around the supermarket, stocking up his trolley. As he'd crawled around Gene's floor that afternoon, desperately trying to clean up his mess, he knew he'd hit a low that even he didn't think was possible. He was exhausted, drained and felt hollow inside. So many moments were haunting him; the disgust in Keats's voice, the disparaging remarks, that parting comment about Robin – what the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

But worst of all was the fact that he'd found himself in the very same trap as Kim, all those months ago. Now he understood. He knew why she kept going back for more.

Despite what happened that afternoon he was desperately trying to change things and turn his life around again. He had no food in the flat. Not real food. Some chocolate bars, horrible flavoured pop tarts, crisps… that was about the limit. He tried to buy some fast and easy but healthier foods, although he didn't stop himself from putting a bottle of scotch and some cans of beer in the trolley too, because he knew he'd never sleep that night without something alcoholic in his blood.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Simon froze on the spot and closed his eyes as the hand rested against his shoulder.

"Not surprised," he muttered, "not surprised at all."

"Did you manage to get cleaned up alright?" Simon slowly turned to see a beaming Keats beside him.

"Unless you want to pay for my shopping I suggest you fuck off," he said, although telling Keats to fuck off had done nothing so far.

"Just wanted to make sure you're alright," Keats put on an expression of mock-concern, "you seemed fairly embarrassed earlier on"

"Doesn't your lack of a brain embarrass you?" Simon asked as he pushed the trolley at speed toward the check-out.

"Oh _shhhhh_ now, Simon," Keats said comfortingly, "it happens to every man sometimes" he whistled. "So they say." He watched as Simon refused to take the bait this time. "You know, you just get a bit too excited… can't hold it… it won't happen when you reach sexual maturity…"

"_You_," Simon spun around and spat at Keats, "get out of this shop before I tell the security guard to _throw_ you out."

Keats gave him a sympathetic look.

"Can't handle the pressure of an adult relationship," he said, "I understand," and he walked away. Simon felt as though he might just explode in fury. The only kind of relationship he wanted to have with Keats was one in which he knocked out all his teeth. He simmered slowly as he queued and finally as he got to the front of the line he felt a little more at ease.

"Do you need any help packing?" the uninterested woman behind the counter asked.

"No, thanks," Simon said, flapping open a bag.

"Good," said the woman, "I bloody hate it when people say yes."

Simon frowned a little but ignored her and started to pack his shopping. The quicker he got out of there, the better. All he wanted was to get home, lock the doors and hide away.

"You want to double bag those bottles."

The voice from behind him made him want to scream.

"I told you to leave me alone!" he spat as he turned around and saw Keats lurking behind him.

"You need to double bag those," he told him again, "don't want the bottles going through the bottom."

"I can pack my own shopping, _thank_ you," Simon said through gritted teeth.

Keats observed some more of his packing techniques.

"The eggs go on the top," he said he leaned a little closer to Simon and whispered into his ear, "_they're very fragile."_

A shudder travelled down Simon's spine.

"I _know,"_ he hissed.

Keats picked up a cucumber as it rolled down the check out.

"Ooh! Look at the length of that!" he declared as Simon snatched it from him and packed it quickly, knocking the egg box from the top of the bag. "I warned you about the eggs!" Keats cried gleefully as Simon started to pack another bag. "Now, Simon, don't pack the lube in the same bag as the raw chicken…"

"I haven't _bought_ any lube!" Simon cried, suddenly very much aware that the entire supermarket worth of shoppers had ground to a halt and were staring at him. Once again his pleas for the floor to open up and swallow him went unheard.

Keats put his hands on his hips and gave Simon a withering look.

"I can't believe you forgot the lube," he said loudly.

"I'm going to lubricate your face with my fucking fist in a moment," Simon threatened but Keats merely shook his head and sighed.

"Maybe I should leave you to finish the shopping by yourself," he said, "my help seems to be bothering you rather. I'll wait for you outside."

Simon shook and trembled as he watched him walk away. He wanted to ask if there was a back exit to the supermarket so that he could sneak away unnoticed but he knew there was no chance of that, so as he finished buying his shopping and left the store he wasn't at all surprised to find Keats waiting outside for him.

"So what have you bought, Simon?" he asked, following on behind as Simon tried to march away, "going to cook me a slap-up dinner? I did have plans, but I'm sure I can rearrange…"

That was it. Simon snapped. He couldn't take any more. He turned around, his blue eyes full of pain and desperation and cried,

"What the hell do you _want_, Keats? What's it going to take to get rid of you? Whatever it is, I'll do it. Just tell me and I'll do it. I can't take any more of this."

Keats had never seen Simon looking so desperate, so fraught. He took a step back and took in every detail of his frantic expression. It was a beautiful sight and one he would be sure to reply through his memory over and over. A smile graced his lips as he gave a slow nod.

"You want to know what it will take?" he asked, "OK. I'll tell you." He watched Simon swallow in desperate anticipation, waiting to hear how he could ever escape this nightmare. "You have two options, Simon. Pick whichever appeals. I really don't mind which you go for, they both have their charms and the end result will be pretty much the same." He gave a charming smile.

"What?" Simon begged, "Oh come on, just tell me."

Keats smiled, savouring the moment. He drew in his breath.

"Your first option," he began, "is to tell your mummy and daddy exactly what their blue eyed boy got up to last night. And I'm not talking about a quick '_oh no, I slept with the enemy, can you ever forgive me?_' – I mean a full, detailed run-down. A blow-by-blow account as it were," he smiled charmingly.

"Do you _have_ to put it that way?" Simon felt his face burning up.

"And to make sure you don't skimp on any of the details I'll be right there, with popcorn, enjoying the show," he smiled, "oh, and I will be expecting a little epilogue to the tale as well, because you'll be explaining to Gene in great detail what that little sticky patch is on his office carpet and exactly how it got there."

Simon's face was red. Was it with fury or with shame? He didn't know. Telling Gene and Alex was one thing but the full run down Keats was demanding was not an option. And he knew that if he chose to do so then Keats would not let him skimp on any of the details and would be right there to fill in the gaps. He stared him in the eye and swallowed.

"And the other option?" he whispered.

Keats smiled amiably.

"Work for me," he said.

Simon rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen."

"Come to Fenchurch West," said Keats, "take the Hi-Tech Crimes post. You know how long I've wanted you in that position," he gave a laugh, "or in any position…" he gloated as he watched Simon fuming, "I told you before, Simon. You don't have to do any of the mucky stuff. No souls. None of that crap. I want you for your work standards. Fenchurch West is growing stronger every day. But we need the results as well. I need you to boost my crime solving rate. I'll get one over on Gene one way or another, might was well be professionally."

Simon stared at him and swallowed.

"I would rather work for Richard and Judy," he said.

"Those are your options, Simon," Keats shrugged, "You asked, I told you." He began to walk away.

"And what if I choose neither?" Simon called after him.

Keats stopped walking, he turned around slowly.

"Then," Keats began, "everywhere you go you'll find me. I'm always going to be there. You've seen yourself, you can't escape me. Everywhere you go, I'll find you. And that's the way it's always going to be, Simon. Remember, we've got an eternity together. How are you going to explain to Gene and Alex why I'm always there beside you, Hmm? How do you think they're going to feel when I'm always there on their patch? Maybe I can take advantage of the situation. Maybe I'll have one more crack at Alex. Hope you won't get too jealous, Simon." He paused, "You have until ten tomorrow morning to decide. I'll be waiting for your decision." He gave Simon one last grin, then turned and began to walk away, singing _Me and my Shadow_ as he went.

Simon shook on the spot as tears filled his eyes. There was no way out, truly no way out. Whatever he decided his life was over one way or another and so was his job. One night, one terrible night of drunken sex and lonely desperation and everything had fallen apart.

A tiny twinkling of starlight followed him all the way home as he contemplated what the hell he was going to do.

~xXx~

"…_I know that you can't reply but sometimes it just feels good to talk to you…"_

The voice swirled around Alex in her dreamscape. It seemed to come from nowhere. It faded in and out, becoming clearer and then fuzzier again and she couldn't place who it was. She tried to focus upon it because it was loaded with so much emotion that she knew its message was serious.

_"…I sent you home. I don't know if you know that. And I don't know how I did it. But I'm so happy you got back…"_

It faded out again. She desperately wished she could place it. It was a male voice but … Oh, why couldn't she hear it more clearly?

_"…It still seems strange seeing you so different when I sit with you here, so young. But never as happy as I remember you."_

It was a different voice now. Softer. _Female_. She lost it for a moment, it seemed to swirl away but came closer once again,

_"…I don't think it's going to be long before either of us see you again. Somehow. This world… something's happening. We're getting closer to you…"_

She recognised the voice now. Kim… it was _Kim_… what the hell was going on?

She fought to keep the voice close but it faded out again until she caught one last line;

"…_I've got a piece of gossip that would make your eyes spin…"_

And suddenly her eyes flew open and she was wide awake. There was a throbbing pain in the side of her head and a churning in her guts. Instinctively her hand stretched down to her abdomen, feeling the changing form of her belly as memories of the previous day flooded her mind.

"_God,"_ she whispered as she remembered the two lines, the long talk and everything that had happened afterwards. It seemed like a dream but the test lying next to her bed reminded her that it was all real, all very, very real. Despite the nagging fears that remained a smile crossed her face as she thought about it. Life had always been full of twists and turns in Gene's world but rarely were they so beautiful.

She glanced beside her and found the bed empty.

"Gene?" she called. He didn't seem to be anywhere nearby.

She very cautiously sat up. Her stomach felt queasy but she wasn't near _emergency _bathroom point yet. Doing her best not to disturb her temperamental gut she got out of bed and padded through to the lounge where she found Gene unpacking a brown paper bag on the table.

"What's all this?" she asked.

"They do breakfast now," said Gene.

Alex frowbed.

"Who does? The bagel fairies?

"Latte Land," said Gene, "these look like the sort of thing a posh tart night be able to eat when she's up the spout."

"Thank you for putting it like that," Alex couldn't wait for Gene to finally reach the end of his long list of euphemisms for being pregnant.

"How's the stomach?" he asked.

Alex put one hand over her belly as she tried to decide how it felt about tackling bagels. It actually didn't seem too upset by the idea.

"Might be able to manage that," she said, "do need to go to the toilet thought."

She rushed off with her legs half-crossed while Gene finished putting out the bagels, managed to get more filling on his hands than were left in the damn things and swore about the price of Latte Land's breakfast offering's.

Alex returned a few moments later looking a little relieved and he pushed a bagel in front of her.

"Eat," he said, "you need your strength. Got a very big day ahead of is."

"As long as it doesn't involve peeing at a target," Alex sighed, taking an experimental bite from the bagel. It was nicer than she'd expected. Latte Land seemed to have hit upon a winner.

"No, no pissing on sticks," said Gene, "first we need to see the Super. Explain things. Tell him to send Jimbo packing."

"I'm not sure he has the kind of power to make him go" sighed Alex.

"He will when my fists and me boots are backing him up," said Gene, "then you need to see a doc."

Alex nodded a little reluctantly. She wasn't looking forward to that part.

"Goody," she mumbled as she took another bite of her bagel.

Gene practically inhaled his bagel in one go. Despite his complaints about the price it seemed they'd been a hit. His wallet wasn't going to enjoy his potential new obsession though. When he finished his bagel he looked at Alex seriously.

"We should tell Simon," he said.

"About the baby or the bagels?" asked Alex.

"Both," said Gene, "he looks like he could do with a proper breakfast too." He paused, "No, we need to tell him. But we'll keep it quiet from everyone else for now. Until we know everything's OK."

Alex nodded slowly.

"I agree," she said quietly. She sat the remaining third of her bagel on the plate and pushed it away.

"Eat that bit," said Gene.

Alex gave a slightly awkward belch.

"I can't eat any more," she said quietly.

"I told you, you need to start eating properly," Gene told her.

"Gene," Alex began crossly, "Put it this way: I leave that piece of bagel, the rest stays down. I force down the rest and the whole thing floats away down the toilet."

Gene sighed. He didn't really like the sound of that.

"Fine," he said, "but yer eating lunch and there'd better be a clear plate at the end."

"I'll do my best," said Alex as she flinched and held her head.

"What's the matter?" Gene asked quickly.

"Nothing," Alex said quietly, "Just got a headache coming on." She looked at Gene who seemed very anxious. "I'm alright Gene, I used to get them with Molly all the time.

Gene eyed her warily.

"I'm keeping an eye on you," he warned her.

"No need," Alex tried to argue but she could see he was worried. If she was honest, she was worried too. She had suffered headaches when she was pregnant with Molly but this one felt different. Strange. As she rubbed her head, one last voice filtered through her mind;

_"It's time to take her now,"_

That was the sentence that left her with in a sense of cold dread.

~xXx~

Simon felt his stomach churn as he saw the face of Keats at the other end of the corridor. He shook with anger.

"Time's running out, Simon.," he said, "I'm expecting your answer in an hour from now." He smiled. _"Tick-tock."_

Simon's scowl reached epic proportions but before he could respond the doors beside him opened and Gene and Alex came through looking focused and serious.

"Shoebury, a word," Gene said firmly.

Simon gulped. Had he discovered anything untoward in his office? _God_, he thought he'd done a good job of cleaning but…

"Uh, OK," he said quietly, following on behind as they paced along the corridor.

Keats leaned back nonchalantly against the wall.

"Good morning, Gene," he said, "up for another fine day of co-operation between east and west?"

"Go and boil yer glasses," said Gene.

Keats was unfazed.

"Morning Alex," he smiled. When she turned to give him the slightest glance of anger he simply said, _"Bzzzzzzzzzzz_," leading her to believe that once again he was either going crazy or auditioning for the role of a bee in _The Life And Times Of A Bloody Big Bee._

Simon followed them nervously to Gene's office and sat down upon Gene's invitation. He noticed that both gene and Alex walked around the other side of the desk and sat down together. This was highly unusual. When did Alex go round the other side of the desk?

"Is something the matter?" he squeaked.

"We've, uh," Gene cleared his throat, "We've had some news. And we thought you ought to know." He paused and sniffed the air. "Does me office smell funny to you?" he asked.

Alex breathed in.

"A little," she said, "it smells a bit like…"

"You said you had news," Simon interrupted.

Gene cleared his throat and stopped trying to work out why his office smelt of sex.

"Right," he began, He looked Simon in the eye. "Alex is pregnant."

Gene couldn't tell who was more surprised by the straight-forwardness of his announcement, Simon or Alex. Alex had been used to Gene avoiding certain words all night and all morning, and to hear him come straight out with it had been a bit of a surprise, while Simon was just about ready to fall off his chair.

"She _is?"_ His eyes moved from Gene to Alex who nodded slowly, trying to keep her expression serious instead of smiling. "Wow, uh," Simon wasn't sure what to say. "Congratulations." He paused, "_Is_ it congratulations?" he began to feel a little awkward, "I mean, was this planned or did the, erm… condom slip?"

Two faces stared at him aghast.

"I don't think that's any of your business, do you?" cried Gene.

"Simon," Alex began calmly, "it was a surprise but not an unhappy one. While it might take a little while to get used to it we're happy and we'd like you to be happy for us too."

"Well… yes," Simon didn't really know what to say, "Of course I am. Congratulations." He hesitated, not really sure what he was supposed to do. Eventually he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Gene's hand.

"Appreciate the support," he said, "despite yer condom aspersions." He cleared his throat. "And for what it's worth, me officer went in without back-up."

"Gene, Simon doesn't need to know this much detail," Alex said crossly.

Simon coughed loudly in agreement. He didn't know where to put his face.

"You got that right," he said, turning crimson.

"The point is, Shoebury," Gene began seriously, "the safety of Alex and the baby is my top priority right now. She's going on light duties. We need to keep her stress to a minimum."

"It's not just the pregnancy," Alex said quietly, "things have been…" she closed her eyes for a moment, "_filtering through_." That pain was growing in her head again. The paracetamol hadn't shifted it for long, "I passed out yesterday and I'm not altogether sure that was to do with the baby. I've heard things. Voices." She took a deep breath. "They said worlds are getting closer." She felt herself shaking a little. "My body is failing out there, but it's affecting me here, now. I'm not at my best."

"We're talking to the Super this morning," said Gene, "we're putting the Jimbo plan on hold. Forget about his demotion prospects, we just need to clear him out of this station and as far away from Alex as we can."

_Oh god._ Simon's heart began to sink. His shadow… Keats was going to be his shadow. He hung his head.

"What… what if he won't go?" he asked quietly.

"He has to, Simon. One way or another. I'm not letting him put Alex and the baby at any risk at all."

Simon swallowed hard.

"I don't think he's going to be that easy to deal with," he whispered.

"We know that," Alex said grimly, "but we need to get rid of him. I'm already going through enough, I'm not letting him make things worse."

Simon's stomach churned and rolled so much that _he_ might as well have been the one with morning sickness. All the mistakes he'd made came flooding back to him. He had to make amends somehow, he knew how much he was risking with his behaviour and there was only one way he could think of to atone for his sins and to keep Keats at bay while Gene and Alex worked at protecting their impending family. Slowly, he got to his feet.

"I'd better get back to work," he whispered with a tiny smile, "Congratulations again."

Alex gave a tiny smile as she watched him leave. His demeanour had changed suddenly and that worried her.

"Do you think he's alright?" she asked Gene quietly.

Gene sighed.

"Maybe it was the birds and the bees thing. Maybe he's worried he's knocked up too?" he said, "you should give him yer other test."

Alex couldn't even raise a smile as her hand rubbed her temples. Something was happening. Something wasn't quite right. And it felt like something 15 years away.

~xXx~

"Not long to go now, Simon," the smug tones of Keats greeted him as he left CID. Simon froze, then turned around to see Keats's gloating smile. "Make that decision fast, Simon. What's it going to be? The feature length version of our sexcapades or a fast transfer to the job of a lifetime?"

"I'll tell you," Simon hissed, "I've made my decision." His heart pounded and he felt deeply sick, right down to the pit of his stomach but it was the only way, "I'll work for you. I'll come to Fenchurch West. But you leave Gene and Alex alone, because the moment you start trying to muscle your way back in I'll be out the door faster than –"

"- You ejaculate?" Keats finished for him. Something snapped inside of Simon and he instinctively threw a punch in his direction but Keats's reactions were faster than he was expecting and he caught his fist in mid-air. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Simon," he hissed, "Not if we're going to start our working relationship on the right foot." His sneer drew closer to Simon's face. "Get a box. Pack your things. I'll be expecting you this afternoon."

Simon shook as he watched Keats walked away. He swallowed hard but the lump in his throat wasn't going anywhere. At that moment he had never hated himself more. He'd never hated _Keats_ more, ether. What was worse was that he felt fairly sure things could only get worse from there on in but there was nothing he could do about it. He chose the only option he really had – the only one that would keep Keats away from Alex and Gene. The fact that the devil now owned his soul? That was something that he would have to deal with in time.

~xXx~

Even the clock was ticking too loudly. Alex couldn't take it. She rubbed her head and closed her eyes.

"_Bols?"_

She knew Gene was trying to get her attention but couldn't stand the thought of speaking in case her head couldn't take it.

"_Bolly? Come on, we need to see Fletcher. I'm not doing this on me own." _

She took a deep breath. Surely the pain would pass?

"Alright, Gene," she whispered, "I'm –"

Before she could complete her sentence a searing pain shot through her forehead, a pain the likes of which she'd never felt in her life. It felt as though her head was literally being taken apart and all she could do was to scream as her body collapsed to the ground.

She could hear Gene crying her name over and over but she couldn't do anything but clutch her skull as the pain continued. She just wanted it to stop, to all be over. It was too much, too much to bear.

As the sound of Gene's voice died away and darkness overtook her she heard one last line; a voice from far away.

"_Let's see what's going on in there."_

Then, silence.


	17. Chapter 16: How Bizarre

**Chapter 16**

Alex could hear muffled voices around her. The pain in her head was fading fast, shrinking away to nothing. She tried to open her eyes but it was so hard at first, then she managed to prise them open a crack and a bright white light flooded her vision.

"Gene?" That was the only word on the tip of her tongue.

She had vague memories of the last words she'd heard before the pain grew too strong and panicked for a moment that she might have woken up in 2011 but a familiar face loomed into view above her.

"Bloody 'ell, doc, you were right, she really is awake."

"Gene?" she repeated, trying to sit up.

"Stay where you are, DCI Drake," the voice of a man who stood nearby wearing a white coat told her firmly, "just lay there and relax for a minute.

Alex focused on Gene's face instead.

"What happened?" she whispered, "I don't really remember."

"Headache," said Gene, "sounds like a bloody bad one too."

"Migraines, DCI Drake," the doctor said quite curtly as he made a few notes, "they're not uncommon in pregnancy."

"This wasn't a migraine," Alex whispered as she rubbed her forehead. She'd had one or two of those in the past and this wasn't one.

"For the sake of a quiet life we're going with 'migraine'," Gene said quietly as he glanced at the doctor.

"Now, the more pressing issue is the fall you had when you collapsed," the doctor told her, "Your fiancé says you're expecting a happy event."

Alex closed her eyes and leaned back.

"Why can no one just say 'pregnant'?" she sighed.

"How far gone are you?" the doctor asked.

"Stick a pin in a calendar, it's likely to be about as accurate as any guess _I_ could make," Alex mumbled.

"Bolly, you've been with me too bloody long, you're sounding like me now," Gene told her.

"Well, we're going to get you to imaging to make sure all's well with the foetus," the doctor told her.

"Why can no one say 'baby' either?" sighed Alex.

"We can see how far along you are then,." The doctor concluded. He seemed to put several full stops on his page of notes, unless of course he was literally dotting 'I's and crossing 'T's.

Alex glanced at Gene as the doctor left the room. She bit her lip.

"What really happened?" she asked.

Gene sighed. He sank into a chair beside her and held her hand. That worried her deeply – she knew Gene had to be concerned now.

"You turned as white as a sheet," he said,"yer head was hurting. Kept clutching it, then down you went. Screamed at one point. I think you were unconscious at the time but didn't stop you screaming."

Alex swallowed as she looked at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Gene looked at her seriously, surprised by the fact that he thought a tear might have been on the way, but he managed to sternly stop it in its tracks.

"Thought you were heading off there, Bols," he said, "some hospital was calling yer name in two thousand and bollocks."

Alex took a staggered breath.

"Yes," she whispered, "I think it was."

Gene stared at her. He swallowed. That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Yer still here," he said.

Alex licked her lips and tried to smile.

"Good," she whispered.

"You planning to stick around, Bols?" he asked.

Alex looked away. She closed her eyes tightly as they filled with tears and nodded strongly.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You don't sound very sure."

Alex tried desperately not to cry.

"I'm fighting as hard as I can," she whispered, "believe me, Gene. I'm fighting with every bone in my body to stay here."

Gene tried to reply but the doctor returned. This wasn't the time. He watched as a couple of porters entered and the doctor said,

"They'll take you down for your scan now. We'll check everything's OK and then you can go home. Plenty of rest, plenty of fluids and a few painkillers, you'll be back on your feet in no time."

Gene swallowed as he watched the porters wheeling Alex away. Back on her feet? He was sure of that.

The question that scared him was, in which year?

~xXx~

Simon fought back the tears as he slowly placed his personal belongings in a box one at a time, noting with each one how little he'd realised that it meant to him before now to have _his desk, his office, his job._ They weren't his any more.

He'd been ungrateful. _So_ ungrateful. For eight months he'd been so busy resenting his death and being separated from Robin that he didn't see what he'd been blessed with, any of the honours that had been bestowed upon him. He hated them, detested them with every bone of his body. It was only now that he was losing the new life he'd found that he began to realise what leaving Fenchurch East meant. When Lindsay appeared ion the doorway he froze for a moment and swallowed.

"Sir?" she looked shocked to see what he was doing, "what's going on?"

Simon felt one lone tear escape. He wiped it away crossly.

"I'm transferring," he said quietly

"Transferring?" Lindsay couldn't have been more surprised, "to which department?"

Simon wiped his eyes furiously.

"Different station," he said.

Lindsay stared on, absolutely dumbstruck. It had come so out of the blue, she couldn't believe it. While it wasn't as though she and Simon had been close friends they'd enjoyed many nights at the karaoke and had a lot of fun since Lindsay first arrived. How could he have not even told her he was leaving?

"When did all this happen?" she asked.

Simon looked down as he put a few more items into his box.

"Today," he said quietly.

"What's happened?" cried Lindsay, "why the sudden move?"

Simon closed his eyes for a moment. He wished he knew himself.

"Have to go where I'm needed," he said quietly.

"But who's going to run the department?"

Simon shrugged.

"I don't know. Vickery?"

"Vickery?" cried Lindsay. She shook her head. "Sir, he couldn't run a tiddlywink contest."

Simon gave her the tiniest smile. He was really going to miss her.

"Look after DCI Hunt and DCI Drake for me," he said quietly. Wirth one last forced smile he picked up his box, tucked it under one arm and left the office.

He walked slowly to CID. This was going to be the hardest part or at least he thought it would be, but there was no sign of Gene. His office was empty. He took a deep breath and walked forward, the door opening for him one last time. He sat the box on Gene's desk and took an envelope from the top.

_For the attn. DCI Hunt. _

One resignation letter, signed, sealed and delivered.

He lifted his box again and turned around. No way out. It was over. Life as he knew it was a thing of the past.

He left Fenchurch East and headed for darker pastures. Was the nightmare coming to an end or just beginning? He wouldn't have long to wait before he found out.


	18. Chapter 17: Female of the Species

**Chapter 17**

"Just relax."

Alex sighed and wondered if doctors and nurses were programmed to say that when they knew it was going to be most annoying. She felt anything but relaxed as she lay on the bed in the slightly darkened room, her midsection exposed embarrassingly to all and sundry as the ultrasound technician began to smear her stomach with gel. At least it was warm, she thought to herself. She glanced sideways at Gene who seemed to have gone very pale. _So much for being the supportive father_, thought Alex. He looked like he was going to pass out at any moment and need medical treatment himself.

"Right, I'm just going to take a look and see what's going on," the technician told Alex, turning the monitor away from her. Alex frowned. She knew why she'd done that. If she wasn't going to let her see until she knew the baby was alright then she should have just said so. It was so obvious, but the fact that she hadn't come straight out and said it frustrated her and made her anxious.

She held her breath and waited, trying to read the look on the technician's face. For a moment she seemed to be struggling to find what she was looking for, then a relaxed expression came over her and she turned the monitor slightly so that Gene and Alex could see.

"There it is," she said, "that's your baby."

The words flew from Alex's mouth in a hurry.

"Is she alright?" she whispered.

"_She?"_ Gene frowned, "who says it's a girl?"

Alex ignored him, focusing instead on the shades of black and white that were making up the image of the tiny life she was growing, It seemed extremely surreal to see.

"Just to reassure you, there's the heart beating away," the technician indicated an area on the scan, "and so far everything is looking fine. I'm just going to take a few measurements and check the baby's development, see how far along you are."

Alex glanced at Gene again. His pale face had turned pure white now as he stared at the screen. Suddenly it seemed very real.

"Bloody hell," he said quietly.

Until that moment he wasn't sure he really believed it, even after Alex took the test. There was still a part of him that thought it was a faulty test or a mistake but there it was, wriggling and moving, heart beating, little arms and legs twitching as they watched. He swallowed and took a deep breath. Suddenly the concept of creating life seemed incredibly powerful indeed.

He looked at Alex. She was spellbound by the image, couldn't take her eyes from it. He fought the corner of his lip that threatened to smile as he tried to take in exactly what this meant. This baby was the fusion between life and death; life created between himself and Alex, one long passed, the other still hanging by a thread in 2011. He had never thought it possible until Kim's little indiscretion with Keats.

"Is that the size of it?"

The technician nodded.

"From the size of the baby I'd put you at around twelve weeks," she said, "could be just under."

"Shit," Alex whispered. She felt so stupid for not knowing sooner as she thought about those last few months. She hadn't been drinking in the last few weeks – she hadn't felt like it – but earlier on she had. She remembered her boozy night out with Kim and Shaz and felt awful. She should have known.

"How's it looking?" Gene asked, "not got two heads has it?"

"No, it hasn't got two heads," the technician sighed, "everything is looking fine. But, Alex, after your fall I'd suggest you try to stay off your feet for a day or so as a precaution and call if you have any bleeding or pain."

"OK," Alex said quietly.

"You got any handcuffs?" asked Gene.

The technician looked alarmed.

"No, I would think that would be more your territory," she frowned.

"Just trying to think how I'm supposed to keep her off her feet," said Gene.

The technician began to wipe the gel from Alex's stomach and handed her some tissues to finish the job.

"You can sit up now" she said.

Glad the humiliation was over, Alex righted herself and refastened her trousers the best that she could. Nothing fitted all of a sudden. She remembered hearing that pregnant women started to show earlier when they'd had a child before. She supposed there was truth to that rumour.

"Is everything really OK?" she asked.

"As far as I can tell," the technician said, making a few notes, "the important thing now is that you start to look after yourself. Get some rest, make sure you're eating right, start attending the midwife."

"Alright," Alex nodded.

Gene cleared his throat. He looked a little anxious.

"She's 'ad pain," he said.

The technician looked at him a little blankly for a second.

"Cramping isn't uncommon in early pregnancy," she said, "just keep an eye on it and come in if it gets too severe."

Gene helped Alex off the table and they waited to be given the all-clear to leave. Soon they were dismissed and ready to head off home.

"Putting you to bed," Gene told her, "we need to 'ave a talk. About voices from the promised land."

Alex looked a little awkward. She wasn't sure she wanted to talk about the voices she heard during her turn but she knew she couldn't avoid it forever. Reluctantly she allowed Gene to help her out to the car and sat there for the duration of the journey back, picturing that little black and white blob in her mind. For the moment, that was what she had to focus on, that little blob and the man who helped create it.

~xXx~

"Welcome to the west."

Keats's smile was laden with horrid intent as he met Simon in the entrance of Fenchurch West. Simon had seen that smile many times before. It wasn't a smile you wanted to see aimed in your direction, that was for certain,

"I'm here. You've got what you wanted. Now show me to my desk and let me get on with my job," Simon told him.

"All in good time," Keats beamed, "first I'm going to show you off to CID. This way."

Simon felt numb and empty as he followed Keats through the building. He'd been there before, more than once. It wasn't all that long since he had last been 'employed' by Fenchurch West. Last time it had been a cover to try to find Keats's tape in the hope it might bring out his human side. Just two nights earlier Simon had seen more of the human side of Keats than he ever thought possible but it seemed like it had all been used up in one go because there had been no sign of it since.

"Isn't this a bit unnecessary?" Simon mumbled as Keats showed him into CID, "you've already introduced me here before."

But in Keats's mind that last attempt at luring Simon to the dark side had already been filed away in the depths of his memory just like so many plans before. It was how he coped with failure; block it off and move onto the next thing.

"Good afternoon, dream team," he addressed the less than enthusiastic members of Fenchurch West CID, "I'd like to introduce you all to DCI Simon Shoebury."

Victoria Stone turned around with a sigh of disbelief, rolling her eyes.

"What, again?" she mumbled.

Keats ignored her.

"Simon will be taking over the head of Hi-Tech Crimes department," he said.

Victoria's face shrivelled and made her look like she'd been sucking lemons.

"I was expecting that, _again_," she said crossly, "in, out, in, out, I'm like a bloody verse of the hokey-cokey."

"Your services are no longer requited, there's no need to be bitter about it," Keats told her smugly.

Victoria brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not," she said honestly, "I'm too busy."

"Crossing 'T's and dotting 'I's again?" Keats mocked her.

Victoria picked up a file and walked to the door.

"No," she said, "I have a case to deal with."

Keats frowned in confusion as he watched her begin to leave. He gave the orders and he was happy to give Victoria as little to do as possible. She was there for his evil bullying pleasures and nothing else.

"C-case?" He ran after her a few steps, "what case?"

Victoria glanced around.

"I have special orders," she said, "I'll be back under your jurisdiction in a week or so"

Keats's mouth fell open, the rug pulled most definitely out from under his feet.

"What?" he cried, "Exactly what do you think you're doing, DI Stone?"

"I've been moved temporarily to the authority of another station," she said, "assisting on an investigation."

"What fucking investigation?" cried Keats, "I didn't clear this!"

"It goes above you," said Victoria.

"There is no one above me!" cried Keats.

"Not all stations have their Superintendents in place as decoration," said Victoria.

"Tell me where the fuck you think you're going right now!" he demanded.

Victoria turned to him, her eyes as cold as ice.

"Detective Superintendent Fletcher of Fenchurch East has asked me to come in on a collaboration between stations."

"That's not possible!" Keats spat so furiously he almost couldn't talk for a moment.

"Why not?"

"We do not work with the East!"

"That's not what you said when you chose to request a joint investigation two days ago," said Victoria, "which you seem to have forgotten all about."

Keats's blood had reached boiling point several moments ago. Not it was evaporating in his veins.

"What case could Fletcher possibly have imagined up?" he spat.

Victoria took a step closer. Keats had never noticed how tall she was before.

"There's a dealer in custody. They believe he has someone on the outside running his operations for him. Someone with police connections."

A cold dread filled Keats's body.

"What dealer?" he hissed.

"A man called Nick Nailer," said Victoria.

Visions exploded into Keats's head the moment she spoke his name. Her files; the nature of her death, her last undercover role before she died, the news reports he'd seen in 2011… His eyes flashed with anger and revulsion. She had no memory of life before her death - she'd been dead on arrival and knew nothing outside of life at Fenchurch West. So what was Fletcher doing sending her to investigate the man who'd unwittingly led her into the world of narcotics?

_He_ knew what he was doing. He knew full well.

His connections with Nailer had tailed off as the incarcerated man realised that Keats had been adding himself to the payroll a little more often than he was supposed to, and his resulting comatose spell after Nailer's goons sabotaged his car had let some water pass under the bride. But just like Gene, Alex and Simon were not like 'normal' DCIs so it seemed Fletcher was not a 'normal' Superintendent. He wasn't going to sit back and quietly let life carry on around him.

He shook as he stared Victoria in the eye.

"Walk out of here and you'll be walking into your worst nightmare," he spat.

Victoria swallowed. She stared right back at him.

"With respect, _sir_," she began sharply, "that's where I've been from the moment I set foot in this place."

With no more words to throw at her Keats was powerless to stop her from walking out of the door. His face flushed with anger as he stared after her. He couldn't handle the fury that was building up inside of him. He tried to stay calm on the outside as his eyes watched her walk away but he knew that his time could very well be running out. What Victoria would find when she began to look would be very hard to sweep under the carpet and if there was one person on the inside he knew would do all she could to take him down it was DI Stone.

He turned back to Simon who was watching on curiously and tried to make his face neutral. For now he had another job to do. He'd already had one victory that day; he had Simon under his control. It was time to concentrate on that first and foremost, and then work out how to rein in his wildcard.

One thing at a time, Jim, he told himself. There would be a way. First it was time to concentrate on Simon and to enjoy his moment of glory. The redhead would still be there tomorrow. He was certain that, by then, there would be a plan in his mind.


	19. Chapter 18: Virtual Insanity

**Chapter 18**

"This is totally unnecessary," Alex grumbled as Gene packed her off to bed.

"Yer doc didn't seem to think so," he told her. As she tried to settle back against the pillows he sat down beside her and developed a grim expression. There was something very seriously on his mind. He looked at her, studied her all over. She was looking better, certainly better than she had that morning. He took a deep breath.

"Who was calling you, Bolly?"

Alex looked at him, a little confused.

"Sorry?"

"You said two thousand and bollocks was calling you," Gene said grimly, "who was it?" he paused. "Molly?"

Alex looked down and shook her head slowly.

"Not this time," she whispered.

That took Gene by surprise. He'd thought that of everyone Molly's voice would be the one Alex would hear.

"Who then?" he asked.

Alex let out her breath with a quiet sigh.

"Some doctors. I did hear doctors. I heard them… I think they were taking me to surgery." She looked down. "But the voice that I couldn't believe…" she looked back at Gene. "It was Kim."

"Stringer?" Gene frowned.

Alex nodded.

"She said the worlds were getting closer," she whispered, "she thought she'd be seeing us soon." She paused and frowned slightly, "then she said she had a piece of gossip that would make my eyes spin but didn't tell me what it was!"

Gene scratched his head, trying to work out what Kim would be doing by Alex's bed. He looked at Alex again.

"Who else?" he asked.

Alex sighed.

"I didn't recognise the other one at first," she said, "but then I thought about what he said, and I realised... I think it was Robin." 

"Batman?" cried Gene, "wet piece of lettuce."

"Why are you so down on Robin?" Alex asked.

"I'm not, I just think… he was a bit of a weed," said Gene.

Alex shook her head.

"He wasn't when I went back to two thousand and eleven," she said.

"Weed from the future then," said Gene.

Alex ignored him.

"He says… he says he sent me home," she said quietly.

Gene looked at her and pulled his mouth into a straight line. She could see his mind working overtime. It was a thought that had crossed his mind in the past but he'd tried to block out in recent months. Now, hearing Alex say that Robin's voice had told her the same thing, it had made him confront that possibility again.

"Don't forget who helped yer back here, Bolly," he said tightly.

Alex bit her lip as she looked at him.

"That's it, isn't it?" she said quietly, "that's why you're always down on Robin." She saw his expression harden a little. "It's the thought that someone can do… what _we_ do… over _there_," she felt herself shake a little as she tried to work through the concept, "you feel… threatened? Somehow?"

Gene swallowed. He stared at Alex and breathed deeply. 'Threatened' wasn't quite the right word but she was close.

"Disturbed," he said, "I feel disturbed. Don't know how it's possible."

Alex shook her head slightly.

"It was possible because it _had_ to be," she whispered, "to get me home."

Gene thought about that statement. It did make sense. He supposed, maybe someday, he would have to thank Robin for his part in getting Alex back. Even if he _was_ a weed from the future. For now, he had to confront the more immediate issue.

"So what happened today?" he asked.

Alex closed her eyes for a moment.

"I think they're operating," she whispered, "out there. On my body." Gene noticed she didn't say '_on me'_. Her 2011 body wasn't real to her now. Where she was, the body that she lived in, the one incubating their baby right there and then was the only one that was real to her. "In my head. That's where the pain was, Gene." She looked down. "It didn't sound like there was much hope."

Gene looked at her seriously.

"How are you feeling now?"

Alex thought carefully as she breathed in.

"Better," she said quietly, "better than this morning." Better than she had for a while, if she was honest.

Gene nodded slowly. He wasn't sure what that meant for her. Glancing at her wrist, her watch was still ticking away, for now at least. He must have been silent for a while because the next thing he knew Alex was asking him,

"Are you OK, Gene?"

He looked back at her and slowly nodded.

"Just thinking," he said.

Alex didn't ask him what he was thinking about. She already knew. She didn't need him to state his worries about losing her. Instead she asked him,

"Were you OK in hospital? At the scan? You turned a very interesting colour."

Gene sighed as he thought about it.

"It's all real, isn't it, Bols?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Seeing it on the screen. Flapping its' arms around. It's real. We've reproduced. I've put one up you."

Alex cringed once again at his turn of phrase.

"Remind me to recommend you as a writer when they decide to launch the _Big Book Of Pregnancy Euphemisms_," she said.

"It's true though, isn't it?" said Gene, "seeing it, made it real."

Alex nodded slowly.

"I know," she whispered, "almost unbelievable."

Gene got to his feet. He looked at her seriously.

"Which is why," he began, "I need to get back to work. Not for long," he said quickly, "need to talk to the Super. We never got that far. Need to make sure you're safe as houses. Get that four-eyed snake out of our territory." He walked to the door. "Pick up a takeaway on me way back. What's yer belly going to let you keep down without creating modern art in the toilet bowl?"

Alex blanched.

"Well nothing after you've said that," she frowned but relented slightly at the thought of a cosy, bed-bound dinner. "Maybe Chinese," she said.

"Got it," said Gene.

Alex watched him leaving but as he got to the door she couldn't stop herself from calling,

"Gene?" Gene hesitated and glanced back. "Are we going to be OK?"

Gene nodded. He was certain of that.

"Never stronger," he told her.

~xXx~

Simon's first day at Fenchurch West was about the living hell he expected it to be. Just as Alex was before him he was paraded up and down as the wonderful new recruit, all his praises sung to anyone who'd listen before he ended up thrust into the basement and left with a dim light, a desk and suspicious stains on the floor from Keats's previous basement-bound conquests. He'd shuddered and checked every nook and cranny of the basement for anything that might house gas and air although, to be fair, Keats hadn't had to use any outside influence on him so far.

He hated himself for what he'd done. He couldn't come to terms with the guilt and the horror of it. It sickened him to his stomach and it brought him a permanent headache that wouldn't budge whatever he tried.

He finally sloped off home, feeling humiliated, horrified and downright angry for getting himself into such a position in the first place. As he reached the front door and slid the key in the lock the door opened without him doing a thing and a hand reached out and gripped his collar. Before he knew what was happening he found himself dragged inside and thrown against the wall, a very angry Gene Hunt face directly in front of him.

"What in the name of everything that is evil and slimy and wears starched shirts and glasses is this?" he cried, slamming a sheet of paper in Simon's face. It took Simon a few moments to realise it was his transfer request. His heart sank into his shoes.

"Gene –" he began.

"I get back from bloody hospital to find –"

"Hospital?" frowned Simon, "what happened?"

"Alex," Gene began, "had a _turn_. Something's going on, _out there_, Shoebury. Something's happening that's threatening to take my Bolly away from this place and set her down in some hospital bed in two thousand and Bollocks. And what do I find when I get back to work? You've defected!"

Simon's whole expression fell dramatically. He knew there were tears in his eyes. He couldn't help it.

"No, Gene, I've not defected" he said sadly.

"What d'you bloody call it then?"

Simon swallowed. He wanted to tell Gene the truth but he couldn't find the words. His anger, guilt and humiliation were so strong that he couldn't bring himself to talk about what happened, especially not to Gene. He looked down as Gene's grip on his collar relaxed a little and he said quietly,

"As long as it gets Keats out of your station and away from Alex right now, isn't that a good thing?"

Gene glared at him.

"What d'you mean?" he demanded.

"He'd left the so-called joint investigation," Simon said quietly, "now he's got me, he doesn't need to mess with you any more."

Gene stared at him. He wasn't sure what was going on.

"If this is some sort of bloody-minded attempt at being a martyr…"

"It's not," Simon shook his head, "God, I wish it was…" he felt a tear starting to fall and wriggled from Gene's grip to wipe it away "If I was that good a person…" he shook his head.

"What is it then?" Gene demanded. He watched Simon hang his head. "Is he threatening Batman again?" He remembered when Keats had hold of Simon's file and planned to take Robin's soul, but Simon shook his head.

"No."

"Kim?"

Simon shook his head again.

"No, he's not."

"What's he got over you then?" Gene demanded. He stared at Simon but an answer wasn't forthcoming. "Whatever the hell it is it's not worth selling yer soul to the devil." 

Simon breathed in deeply to keep the rest of his tears from falling and shook his head. Every time he came close to admitting the truth he only had to look Gene in the eye and he knew that he could never admit to what happened between them. He'd committed the ultimate betrayal against Gene, against Fenchurch East and against everyone else who worked within it. He couldn't… he just couldn't… The words could never come.

"Gene," he began quietly, "I've made my decision. I don't expect you to understand it –"

"Too bloody right."

"But you should respect it and just breathe easy now he's not breathing down your neck."

Gene shook his head.

"How can I _Breathe Easy_ when he'll be breathing down _yours_?" he said. He stared at Simon; his haunted expression, bloodshot eyes. "You've been a bloody good friend, Shoebury. Never thought you'd turn yer back on me."

Simon knew the tears were going to start at any moment.

"I haven't," he whispered.

"It feels that way when I see you shuffling off to the Wild West," Gene told him.

Simon shook his head.

"I can't explain it and you don't have to understand," he said, "just… make the most of the space without Keats bothering you every day. Look after Alex. You've got a baby to think about now."

"Bloody know that," said Gene, "that's why I need people round me I know I can trust. Thought you were one of them."

Simon hung his head.

"Please, Gene, don't do this."

"Why not? You've bloody let us all down." 

"I had to do this!"

"Then tell me why?"

Simon closed his eyes. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't tell the truth and no lie would cover it. Eventually he opened the front door again and said,

"I'm sorry Gene. I made my decision and I can't go back on it now. I don't want to argue." He took a deep breath. "You'd better leave."

Gene stared at hm. He wanted to glare, but inside he was too concerned. There was something there something he couldn't quite drag out from Simon. A hidden truth. He knew Simon would never have walked away from Fenchurch East without a bloody good reason but he also knew he wasn't prepared to share it yet. He wasn't going to give up though. He wasn't going to give up on Simon either.

With a final shake of his head he left Simon's flat, angry and bewildered. Whatever had happened he had to get to the bottom of it. He wasn't going to lose Simon to Keats and whatever dirty tricks the evil one was playing Gene could always fight dirtier if he needed to. He would have plenty of time to think about that later though, For now he had to get a Chinese takeaway home. There was a lonely, knocked-up lady waiting in his bed and he had food to deliver – along with the bad and unexpected news of Simon's defection.


	20. Chapter 19: Your Secret Love

**Chapter 19**

Simon could see the two figures very clearly as he moved towards them. It was some miracle that he had even managed to fall asleep for long enough in the first place to have the dream. The horror of the day had replayed for him again and again until he eventually knocked himself out with tranquilisers and managed to catch some sleep.

It didn't really feel like a dream. It felt too real. It was a bit like walking into somewhere invisibly; unseen, being able to creep up and spy on the two people whose bodies were intertwined on the strange looking black leather table. He couldn't make out where they were at first but the sheets of tattoo designs all around the walls soon gave him a pretty good idea.

His attention turned back to the two figures on the table, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm as they indulged in pure, unrivalled pleasure. The figure on top was male; his dark hair caught the light with a perfect silky sheen while across his shoulder a large tattoo sat. On his lower back there was a large dressing, hiding a brand new piece of ink. Beneath him all Simon could see at first was a flash of bleached hair, and whoever the hair belonged to was gasping and panting, her body gripped by ecstasy.

"_Oh…"_

The moment she spoke, Simon's world shattered into fragments so small he could barely see them.

Three words, she said. Three simple words that killed his heart dead.

"…Oh _god_ Rob…"

_Robin._

Simon might have been trapped in a nightmare but he could feel himself grow nauseous from the images that played through his mind. He moved closer and he could see him now, the man he loved, the one he'd spent years lying beside in bed at night and sharing his days with, the man who he'd lost from his life all those months ago was moving up and down on top of someone that Simon knew only too well.

It made no sense… none at all.

_Kim._

The scene was nonsense. It did not compute, It could 't be tangible, it made no sense in the slightest, but inside Simon knew what he was seeing was real. He could feel it. This wasn't just a nightmare born of crazy thoughts, this was a window onto another world that turned his stomach and made him long to die all over again.

That was Kim alright. That was Kim, no doubt about it, her face was older just like in the other flashes he'd caught from the real world but she had the short blonde hair he knew so well instead of the unfamiliar long, dark locks he'd seen in the bleedthroughs he'd been getting. Her body was almost bare except for a bra, and her flesh was covered with ink in pictures and pattern that told the story of her life, of all she'd been through since leaving Gene's world. On her side, the number '1995' looked freshly tattooed and her cheeks were red and flushed with the pleasure that he… Robin… _Robin_, of all people, was bringing to her.

"_No_…." Simon heard his own voice crying, "No, no, no…"

But he couldn't wake up and he couldn't turn away. Powerless to do a thing he had no choice but to stay right there and watch as Robin gave a gasp of orgasmic pleasure and cried,

"_Oh god – it's coming…"_

He had no choice but to stand and stare as Robin's eyes closed and his face became awash with ecstasy as his climax took his breath away and he filled Kim with the hot liquid that he could never have imagined anyone but Simon coaxing from him.

"_No!"_ Simon screamed desperately, he would have done anything to escape the moment, to wake up and get out of the dream but it wasn't going to let him.

The cried of pleasure were hard enough. The look in Robin's eye as he stared at Kim with some kind of desperate need burned his heart. But it was the expression upon their faces as Robin lay against her chest that hurt and stung the most.

Because when the passion and the need and the ecstasy were over he saw something on their faces that he could never, ever recover from.

It looked very, very much like love.

~x~

He awoke finally with his bed sheets tangled around his body, sweat covering him from head to toe. He screamed and he cried and he yelled, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain deep inside his chest. He replayed the images time and again, never making any more sense of them than the last time. He cried and sobbed as he thought about it; two people who meant so much to him in such different ways – what the fuck were they doing How _could_ they? How could they betray him that way?

And how…. They were both gay! He knew that completely. He knew Robin well enough, if there had been any hint of hidden bisexuality there it would have come forth by now. And despite Keats and his Gas and Air he knew that Kim was only interested in the female form. It made no sense… no fucking sense at all.

He climbed from the bed and walked in circles.

"It's only a dream… only a dream…" he told himself again and again but it didn't matter how many times he repeated it his heart told him differently.

He remembered Keats taunting him. _"No wonder Robin's on the turn…"_ What the fuck had he meant by that? What did he know?

With anger and bile bubbling in his chest, Simon marched through the rooms of the flat, kicking things and punching things until his foot and his knuckles were sore. In three hours' time he'd arrive at work, and then – the moment he got there, he was going to have this out with Keats. He knew something – Simon was sure of that. Somehow he knew more than he was letting on and it was time he let Simon in on the little secret. Simon's anger and his fists were going to make sure of that.

~xXx~

Alex awoke and sat up slowly, trying to work out which way her stomach was going to direct her – the bathroom or the breakfast table. It felt a little queasy but as she sat quietly and breathed deeply some of the feeling seemed to pass. She'd managed the takeaway the night before and so far there had been no emergency toilet visits. So far, so good.

She got out of bed and walked to the kitchen where she found Gene eating a big bowl of Sugar Puffs with all the grace of the Honey Monster himself.

"Gene," she said, "try getting them in your mouth instead of all over the table."

Gene glanced up, mid-mouthful, cheeks bulging with cereal and tried to behave a little more gentlemanly. He finished his mouthful, wiped some escaped sugar puffs from the table and spoke at her.

"Morning, Bolly," he said, "where's the puke-o-meter at today?"

Alex frowned.

"What exactly do you mean?" She knew she would regret the question.

"Where are you on a scale from one to ten?" he asked, "with one being, _breakfast is go, _and ten being…. _Get a bloody umbrella, there's a tidal wave coming this way."_

Alex cringed a little.

"Before you said that, I was on a three," she said, "now the puke-o-meter has risen to a seven-point-five."

A slight look of guilt came over Gene

"Sorry," he mumbled, more sugar puffs on their way to his mouth.

Alex looked at him. Something wasn't right. She'd known something was bothering him the night before but he didn't seem ready to talk about it so she tried to wait until he was ready but he was starting to worry her now.

"What's the matter, Gene?" she asked.

Gene swallowed his mouthful.

"Not enough left in the box for a second bowl," he said.

"No, not with the Sugar Puffs," Alex sighed. She leaned across the table. "Something wasn't right last night, either." She could tell from the look in his eye that she was right. "What is it?" she paused, "was it to do with the scan? Are you having second thoughts?"

"About what?"

Alex bit her lip.

"Having the baby."

Gene sighed deeply and pushed the bowl away from him.

"I'm having second thoughts about me judgement of character," he said quietly.

Alex's frown was deep and confused.

"Pardon?"

Gene exhaled and shook his head.

"Shoebury's decided to leave us, he said quietly.

Alex couldn't have been more shocked of she tried.

"What?" she whispered, _"why?"_

Gene shrugged.

"Don't know, Bols, couldn't get it out of him. Tried last night. Went to the office and his transfer request was lying on my desk." He looked down grimly. "But the transfer had already taken place."

"Where to?" Alex asked, her face falling as she already knew inside. "Oh _no…."_

"He says it's got Keats out of our hair," said Gene, "but he'd never do this on his own. Jimbo's got something on him, or something over him. I know it. Won't tell me what it is though."

Alex bit her lip.

"Is… is he threatening Robin again?" she asked.

"I thought the same thing. Shoebury says not." He shook his head. "Whatever it is, Shoebury's not talking,."

"But this doesn't make sense," Alex ran her hands through her hair.

"You're telling me, Bols, been thinking abut it so long me brain imploded."

Alex looked down. No wonder Gene had been so distracted. She gave an anxious sigh.

"Why didn't you tell me about this last night?" she asked, a little annoyed.

"Was going to," Gene told her, "but after what happened yesterday I didn't dare. Didn't want to make things worse, give you another turn."

"I was having _brain_ surgery fifteen years away," Alex reminded him, "there's a slight difference."

Gene exhaled. He nodded slowly.

"And," he said, "it was just bloody hard to accept what he'd done. Couldn't bring myself to say it." He looked seriously at her. "Whatever's wrong, he won't tell me. Might talk to you though."

Alex wasn't sure about that.

"Why would he talk to me?"

Gene hesitated.

"Well for a start you won't hold him by his collar and shove him into the wall."

Alex flinched.

"That is true, I won't," she said.

Gene rubbed his temples. His head was throbbing.

"We need to sort this out, Drakey. Shoebury's not strong enough to survive under Jimbo's thumb."

Alex nodded.

"I know," she said quietly, "we'll get him back, Gene. We'll find out what's happened and get him back."

"Bloody hope so, for all our sakes," said Gene.

He knew there was something seriously wrong and Simon's behaviour was completely unexpected. He couldn't imagine what had made him take such a drastic step but he was determined that they must find out. The thought of losing Simon to Fenchurch West was not an option. The Shoe-Boy was needed and Gene wasn't going to let him go without a fight.


	21. Chapter 20: Don't Speak

**Chapter 20**

Victoria felt strange, nervous and apprehensive as she walked into Fenchurch East. She knew this wasn't the done thing. She wondered if she'd spontaneously combust or something. But so far, so good. She located Fletcher's office with ease and knocked on the door. She waited until he grunted a response before she opened the door slowly and nervously.

"Hello, DI Stone," he began, "come in, come in." He indicated a chair. "Take a seat."

Victoria smoothed down her smart suit and did as she was told.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Sir," she said, recalling their last encounter when Keats was unconscious in hospital.

"Victoria," Fletcher began informally, "you know that if I were able to I'd bring you on board here in a flash. But that's not my call."

Victoria looked down a little sadly.

"I know," she said quietly.

"However," he began, "when your DCI, the one who is calling all the shots, seems content to start up a 'joint investigation' then he's set a precedent. So I am perfectly happy to bring you on board for this. And I don't see that he can say a word against it."

"A word? Well, he already has," Victoria said crossly, "but I wasn't listening." 

"Good," said Fletcher. He nodded. "Victoria, do you know why I have brought you in for this case?"

"It's something about Nick Nailer and who's been helping to run his operations while he's been inside, isn't it"

"But do you know why I've brought _you_ in on this case?" He watched her look at him blankly. "I think we both have our suspicions about who is responsible. And I think we have that same suspicion. We both know who the likely suspect is. And I know that you want to see justice done every bit as much as I do." He paused. "But if my men were sent in then he'd be calling foul. He'd claim we were setting him up. That's why it has to be someone from Fenchurch West who goes in to investigate. And you, my dear, are the one who'll bring justice to this situation.,"

Victoria stared at him. He wasn't like the Super at Fenchurch West. This was a man who actually had a sense of responsibility. She nodded slowly.

"I won't let you down, sir," she said.

Fletcher nodded.

"HMP Fenchurch is awaiting your visit" he said, "here is the paperwork you will need," he slid some papers across the table to get. "There should be no problem with speaking to Mister Nailer but if there is then just drop my name and ask them to call me."

Victoria nodded.

"Right. Than you, sir."

Fletcher looked at her seriously.

"This could be the best chance you have at shifting the manure from that station," he said, "if you want to be able to breathe easy then give this all you've got."

"I will," Victoria assured him.

She stood up, clutching her papers and wondering what was going to come of this. The proposal for the joint investigation has come out of the blue but had raised her hopes that for once justice might be done. Now she just had to hope that her nerve would hold out and she could stand firm.

~xXx~

Simon felt as though he had been waiting forever for Keats to get to work that morning. Lurking in his office, he had almost paced a hole in the carpet. When he saw the door begin to open and caught a glimpse of some spectacles and a long coat entering he knew there exactly what to do. Mimicking a gesture that he'd been subjected to on more than one occasion he grasped Keats by the collar and jammed him hard against the filing cabinet, drawing so close to him that he was just an inch away from his face.

"I want a word with you," he hissed.

Keats struggled and pushed until he removed the offending Simon from his shoulders.

"Well, well, I see the Gene Hunt influence has been rubbing off on you," he spat distastefully.

"'_No wonder Robin is on the turn',_" Simon hissed, "what did you mean by that"

"What?"

"In Gene's office," Simon's anger boiled over, "you told me Robin was on the turn. What the fuck did you mean by that?"

Keats raised an eyebrow and indicated the open doorway.

"You want the whole station to hear?"

Simon kicked out behind him. His foot struck the door and it slammed shut.

"Now," he began, "tell me what the hell you meant. And what you mean by _all_ the shit you've been saying since you woke up." He started to pace furiously. "How the hell do you know any of that crap anyway? What _happened_ to you?"

Keats's expression changed from worried to amused.

"Oh _Simon_," he began with a smile, "what happened to me? I went on a fantastic holiday, that's what happened to me. To a faraway exotic land you never quite made it to." He beamed. "Two thousand and eleven."

"Bullshit," spat Simon.

"Really?" Keats sighed, "You think I'm talking bollocks? Then you won't want to hear all about my adventures in a deserted boat where once a young detective inspector met with a bullet in her head? You won't want to hear about the guests I took back to my new humble abode? So nice of Layton to share that memory with me." He stepped closer to Simon and watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously. "Not the nicest body to share with a drug addled worm but it did the trick."

"What the fuik are you trying to say?" Simon whispered.

"So nice going, back somewhere, isn't it?" Keats sneered, "catching up with old friends." He gave Simon a charming smile. "Caught up with a couple of _your_ old friends, actually Simon. Invited them round for tea. Well, I say 'tea'. Nothing quite that formal." He watched Simon's expression carefully. "Of course, the first person I looked up was Kimberley." He saw a wave of panic crossing Simon's face. "She made it nice and easy for me, going back to the force. Just when you thought it was safe to go back to CID…" He hummed Jaws music eerily at Simon for a few moments before giving a malevolent laugh.

"That's crap, I told her to leave her job so you couldn't find her," Simon hissed.

"Well, I _had_ been dead a long time," Sighed Keats, "but then she wasn't expecting me to do a timeshare deal with Layton. Nice to catch up with her. Gave her a little bit of help with her new haircut." He sneered right into Simon's face, "of course, after I'd invited her back to the boat she found herself a little tied up. And she was the perfect bait for luring guest number two." His face took on a gloat. "You see, Simon, it appears that Kimberley has forged a rather close friendship with your dearly betrothed. Inseparable, from the looks of it." He took such pleasure in the strange mix of emotions crossing Simon's face. "So when I let it slip that I had her, he went running off on her trail. So hot-headed these days, you know. Storming off after her, coming to her rescue. Found himself as another guest on my boat."

He started to hum _Messing About on the River_ as he paced up and down, feeling Simon's stare upon him all the time.

"Crap," said Simon, "this is bollocks."

"Is it?" Keats raised an eyebrow, "is it really?" he shook his head. "You should have seen them, Simon. Never would have believed it if I hadn't seen them with my own two eyes. Lips locked, like a couple of bloody teenagers."

Simon's stare never faltered.

"You're lying."

"I am, am I?" Keats stopped pacing and walked grimly towards him. "If I'm lying then why did you ask me that question? Hmm? What have you seen Simon? You had a dream, hmm? A little window to the future?"

"Fuck off," Simon spun on his heels.

"Oh, losing interest now?" Keats raised an eyebrow, "don't want to talk any more? Was it that bad, Simon? More illicit snogs by the river? Or have they moved on from there? Hmm?" he steeped as close to Simon as he could get without their noses touching and hissed, "Maybe I was wrong the other night, hmm? Maybe it's not Robin that was never enough for you. Maybe you were never enough for him. Kimberley has more balls than you'll ever have."

"Fucking bastard," Simon's punch swung hard at Keats but Keats had been expecting it and moved quickly with Simon's knuckles barely grazing his cheek. Instead Keats caught his fist and wrenched his arm around his back where he slammed him up against the door and hissed into his ear;

"You seem to be forgetting who's in charge around here, Simon. It's me. It's my name on that door out there. You surrendered any right you had to your own life when you stepped through those doors."

"You're not my boss," Simon spat, "we're equals."

"Nothing equal about us, as I found out the other night," Keats sneered, "and there never will be. You have no authority here, Simon. You never will."

"What are you going to do? Demote me?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to fucking do," Keats slammed his head harder against the wall, "for attempting to assault a fellow detective chief inspector."

"You can't do that, that's not your job."

"_Everything_ here's my fucking job!"

"You're answerable to someone, somewhere."

"That's bollocks and you know it, Simon. There's just me. There are people sat on perches, nailed there by me, doing fuck all. It's me who gives the word, Detective Inspector Shoebury. That's all you are now. Your title might have been good enough while you were lurking in that milky cup of tea they call Fenchurch East but here?" he spat angrily. "Here your warrant card isn't worth the ink it's printed with. You can't stay DCI here, Simon. It takes someone with more guts than you." He shoved him angrily to the floor, ignoring his howl of distress and straightened up his tie. "Now, if that's all then you'll have to excuse me. I have work to do."

He let the door swing open and closed as he marched through it, leaving Simon in a heap on the floor, his breath choked with the tears he was trying not to let out. His life really was over, and all from one stupid mistake. Every time he thought he'd hit rock bottom the lift arrived to take him to another layer deep below.

X

Keats marched into CID, no one even batting an eyelid about the commotion from his office. They'd learnt not to ask.

"Stone?" he barked, his eyes moving around the room, "where's DI Stone?"

"She's gone to visit a prisoner," someone piped up.

Keats turned his eyes to him.

"What do you mean, _visit a prisoner?"_

"Asking him some questions about some case she's working on, apparently," the man told him.

Memories of her words the day before came back to Keats. Anxiety and anger began to run through his veins.

"Right," he hissed as his legs took him from the office so fast he almost flew. Victoria was becoming embroiled with two places he wanted her to stay well away from – Fenchurch East and wherever Nick Nailer was. He had to put a stop to this before it was game over, because this time? He was out of continues.


	22. Chapter 21: Ready to Go

**Chapter 21**

Victoria stepped cautiously into the interrogation room in which Nailer was already waiting. She'd heard of him, seen his picture in files or on the news, but there was something else niggling at the back of her memory. She had the strangest feeling of de ja vu, almost as though they'd met before. She straightened her jacket as she walked towards him.

"Nicholas Nailer?" she asked.

Nailer looked up, more than a little surprised by the figure of glamour walking towards him. After dealing with grey-faced idiots for the last eight months it was a pleasant surprise indeed.

"I was going to say depends who's asking," a smile lit up his face, "but now I see it's you that's an affirmative."

Victoria found his smile different to the sneering grins that other inmates or suspects had given her in the past. His smile was genuine and pleasant, there was no malice there. He didn't seem like a common-or-garden crook.

"I need to ask you a few questions," she said, taking a seat. She began the tape on the desk recording and gave the formal introductions before she began. "Mister Nailer, after your arrest in October last year it became clear that many of your operations carried on while you were out of the picture."

Nailed spread his palms.

"I ran a business," he said, it's only natural someone took over."

"There seemed to be a lot of very specific instructions carried out," Victoria continued, "ones that could only have come directly from you." She paused as she studied him. There was something pleasant about his face. _Familiar_. She tried to focus. "Almost as though you had a direct line to the outside world." She saw him smile and give a shrug.

"That's what phones are for," he said.

"It appears you had a contact," Victoria continued, "someone on the inside who was helping you to carry on your business while you were away. Someone who had certain connections within the police force." She paused. "But I get the feeling you weren't altogether pleased with their work?"

"Well, you know what they say," sighed Nailer, "if you want a job done well..."

"But sadly you can't do it yourself when you're on the inside, can you?" said Victoria. She paused. "So, you mistrusted someone."

"Never trust a copper," said Nailer, "present company excepted, of course." He shook his head slightly. "Makes me want to ask you what a nice girl like you's doing in a job like that?"

Victoria gave a weak smile.

"Sometimes I wonder the same thing," she said with a sinking heart. She paused as she watched him light a cigarette. "You… look awfully familiar," she frowned. "Do I know your father?"

"I wouldn't think so," said Nailer, "_I_ don't even know my father!" He felt a little uncomfortable smoking when he saw her flinch a little at the smell and stubbed it back out. He was used to working the old charm, it was half of his success, but something felt different this time. Something about Victoria was really beginning to charm him right back. He sat up a little straighter and wished he'd made more of an effort with his appearance.

"I have something to show you," said Victoria, She fished out two sheets of paper that she'd been given by Fletcher.

"Not my lottery numbers come up?" Nailer asked.

"Sadly not," said Victoria, "this sheet indicates the telephone numbers that have been dialled from your calling card since you've been in prison. While _this_ one…" she paused, her eyes catching his stare, "this one is a copy of the phone records of a DCI Jim Keats." She saw him bristle at the name. "Now, while I know there's honour amongst thieves some people do not deserve any honour. And I don't think he's been showing you any respect. So let's just start by confirming that you know Mister Keats."

Nailer looked her in the eye. His face fell a little. He'd trusted Keats to keep his operations afloat. Instead he'd been awarding himself a healthier payday than the generous offer that Nailer had already made.

"Yes," he said eventually, "I unfortunately know Mister Keats. Or _knew_ him. I believe he had an accident…?"

Victoria took a deep breath.

"He recovered," she said a little angrily.

She read the ire on Nailer's face.

"In that case," he said, "Yes, I most definitely know Mister Keats."

Victoria nodded and leaned forward slightly.

"And in what capacity do you know Mister Keats?"

"In the capacity that I wish to see him disappearing down a very deep chasm," said Nailer. He watched Victoria's expression. "You, uh," he paused, "you seem to share my chasm-plunging desires."

Victoria was deadly aware of the tape.

"It is not _my_ association with Mister Keats under scrutiny here," she said.

The look she gave Nailer said everything that her words could not and he nodded.

"Well, let me see if I can be of further assistance to you," he said.

Victoria felt a very strange sensation floating through her body. She couldn't describe it; there was a strange pull to this oddly charming man that she couldn't understand. It felt as though they'd met before. What was this, some kind of past life thing? She leaned forward a little to ask him whether they'd met before but the door flew open and standing just outside a glowering Keats cast a terrifying shadow through the room.

"Stone," he barked, "your presence is required back at the station"

"I'm questioning Mister Nailer about information he may have regarding a case," Victoria told him calmly.

"This is not an approved use of your time," Keats almost shook with anger.

"You'll have to take this up with DSI Fletcher at Fenchurch East," Victoria said firmly.

"Oh don't worry, I will," spat Keats, "once you're out of this room." He stood aside and waited. "On your feet, Stone."

"I believe the lady had some questions for me," said Nailer.

"I've got some questions for you too," Keats spat, "like who you know with interest in the motor mechanics industry."

"How about who I know that likes to put their fingers in the till?" Nailer challenged.

Keats marched forward in anger and grabbed Victoria by the arm.

"Out, Inspector Stone." He barked.

"Now, you hang on," Nailer got to his feet in anger, "you can't treat a lady that way." 

"I can treat her however I fucking well want," Keats barked as Nailer reached for his jacket and tried to pull him away from Victoria but the guards, who seemed blind to Keats's behaviour against the detective inspector, ran towards Nailer and started to restrain him.

"No, _wait_!" Victoria called, "he was only helping me –"

But the guards were too busy restraining a struggling Nailer and leading him from the room.

"You _bastard_!" he yelled back at Keats, "You'll get yours. You're more corrupt than every other person in Fenchurch put together!"

As they left the room Victoria became very much aware that only she and Keats remained. She backed up as he drew closer.

"I-I've got to get back to work, Sir…" she began weakly but with one hand he slammed her against the wall so hard that it knocked the breath from her body.

"Yes, Stone," he spat, "work. And who is it you work for? Oh yes, that's right – me. Not Fletcher. Not Fenchurch East. _Me_." He watched her splutter and gasp for breath before grabbing her and pulling her closer. "If I ever see you running around for that prat on a perch again I'll make sure you're buried so deeply in the basement that you'll never see daylight again. You hear me, inspector?" he pushed her roughly to one side where she stumbled and fell to the floor. By the time she gathered herself enough to look up he was leaving the room.

She panted and gasped as she tried to catch her breath and calm herself down. What the hell had she done to deserve this? Keats's behaviour was becoming worse; lower and more malevolent with each moment that passed. She closed her eyes, determined not to allow the tears of shock to fall. She took a deep breath. This wasn't the end of the matter This was just a start. He wasn't going to batter her to the ground just like he had so many before her. She was different. She was strong.

She would fight back until she got the justice that she knew she deserved, whatever it took, and the man full of charm that she'd met that morning might just hold the key.

~xXx~

"You don't look yer normal colour," Gene commented.

A combination of Gene's driving and his Sugar Puff-eating style had caused Alex to suffer a bout of morning sickness even though she'd thought she would be fairly safe that morning.

"I'll get some face paints and correct the situation, shall I?" she sighed, her stomach still churning.

"Ma'am," Eddie began, "The super asked to see you."

Alex glanced at Gene, slightly anxiously.

"What does he want to see me about?" she asked.

"Relax Bols, probably issuing you with yer own official Fenchurch East sick bucket, needs yer signature in triplicate."

Alex sighed tiredly. She could really have done without this straight after Gene's attempt at turning a corner in the fastest possible time. She walked slowly to his office, hoping she wasn't going to cause a spillage on the floor. When she arrived, Fletcher greeted her with a surprisingly warm smile.

"Ahh, DCI Drake, have a seat," he said.

Alex nervously sat down opposite him.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked.

Fletcher nodded.

"I hear you are expecting a happy occasion," he said.

Alex wondered again why no one could call a spade a spade. She was _pregnant_! Having a _baby_! How many other names for it did she need to hear?

"Yes, that's' right," she said.

"Congratulations," said Fletcher, "I do wish you and Hunt all the very best."

Alex still wasn't used to the idea herself. Hearing congratulations still seemed very strange.

"Thank you, sir," she said a little awkwardly.

"You will of course have to change your duties while you are expecting," Fletcher told her.

Alex sighed. She'd expected that.

"I know," she said.

"Effective immediately you'll go on light duties," he told her, "desk duty. You have no help in emerging narcotics at the moment, is that right?"

"No sir," Alex said quietly.

"Well, we'll see if we can find you a suitable candidate to transfer," said Fletcher, "in the meanwhile, ask Hunt for any support you need. I'm sure he'll be able to offer some manpower."

"That's what got me into this situation in the first place," Alex muttered to herself.

Fletcher's expression became more serious.

"Now, onto a less than happy matter," he began, "As I'm sure you are aware of by now DCI Keats has decided to withdraw his _joint investigation."_

Alex nodded slowly.

"Yes."

"And he has taken one of our own with him," Flecther said anxiously.

Alex looked down.

"We're all very worried about that, Sir," she said quietly.

"I don't suppose you are able to shed any light on why DCI Shoebury has felt the need to transfer?"

Alex began to feel her head pounding.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said quietly, "he won't tell us anything."

Fletcher bit his lip nervously.

"It seemed like a strange move for him to make," he said eventually.

Alex nodded.

"We know," she said.

Fletcher hesitated.

"And what of your plans for DCI Keats?" he asked.

"How do you mean, Sir?"

"Trying to find a way to seek a demotion," Fletcher continued.

To be honest, that was suddenly the least of Alex's worries. She had more pressing concerns now.

"Sir, I don't know," she said quietly.

"Without Keats on the premises it will be harder to keep a watch on his professional practices," said Fletcher.

"We know that," Alex sighed. She started to rub her forehead as it throbbed away. The drive must have gotten to her more than she thought.

"Do you think that DCI Shoebury may be able to find the information we need from the other side?"

Alex sighed and closed her eyes as the room started to spin a little.

"I don't know, sir," she said quietly.

"Are… are you alright, DCI Drake?" Fletcher asked, "would you like a glass of water?"

Alex took a few deep breaths.

"I'm fine," she said quietly, her eyes still closed.

"You don't look fine," Fletcher said worriedly.

"I'm just getting a few dizzy spells," Alex said quietly, "it's just the pregnancy." She neglected to mention the brain surgery 15 years away.

"Even so, it's not good to see you looking so pale," he said, "Look, I think you should take a little time off. You have some holiday owing. Why not take a week and –"

"I'm honestly fine, Sir," Alex said quietly but something seemed to grip her firmly inside of her head and drag the consciousness from her body. With a gasp and one last moment of holding her head she felt her body start to go limp with no way of sropping it and without knowing what was happening she tumbled from the chair and landed with a hard thump on the ground.

"Good god," Fletcher cried as he jumped to his feet, his heart racing. It wasn't the first time Alex had blacked out in his office and he was starting to get paranoid. He quickly grabbed his phone and dialled Gene's extension. When it was answered on its second ring he barked, "Hunt, it's Fletcher, she's had a turn –"

He didn't even need to say who. Gene knew. He put down the phone without saying a word and Fletcher knew he was on his way.

And his arrival couldn't come fast enough for the Superintendent for, as he stared at Alex's still body on the floor, he could swear that just for a moment she disappeared, right in front of his eyes.


	23. Chapter 22: Linger

**Chapter 22**

Her head was still spinning as she slowly came to and opened her eyes. Where was she? Oh god, not the bloody hospital again. She couldn't remember why, she didn't really remember _anything_ after sitting down in Fletcher's office. She started to panic – how the hell had she gotten there? Was this even 1996?

"Gene?" she cried, desperately looking around, "_Gene_?"

"Here, Bols, I'm here."

The voice immediately set one fear to rest. Alex's eyes closed and she gave a very deep sigh of relief as she felt him take her hand.

"Thank _God_," she whispered, sighing again. She finally turned her head in the right direction and saw Gene sitting beside her, his face looking grey and pained. Immediately she began to feel the fingers of guilt poking her all over. Her health was affecting Gene in a way she'd never seen before. She hated to see him like that, it just wasn't _Gene._ A second moment of panic overtook her. "The baby -?" her hand reached instinctively to her belly, feeling the slightly rounded shape it was taking on.

"Relax, Bolly, baby's fine," said Gene.

"You're anaemic, DCI Drake," the voice of a doctor interrupted them as a man in a white coat with slightly unruly hair walked across to them, "it's not usual in pregnancy but you'll need to keep an eye on that. I'll prescribe you some iron tablets."

"I can get those from the chemist," Alex sighed.

"Well, just make sure you do," said the doctor.

Alex watched and waited until he left the room before turning to Gene again. She felt anxiety creeping over her.

"I can't remember what happened," she whispered.

Gene stared at her. There was a look of fear in his eyes that Alex had rarely seen. He swallowed as he tried to work out what to tell her.

The conversation he'd had with the Super played thorough his mind. He'd wondered why Fletcher was so insistent that he accompanied them to hospital. He waited until Gene had been asked to stand aside while the doctors checked her over and then addressed him;

"Gene."

The use of Gene's first name was his first clue to something being really wrong. He turned to Fletcher with confusion and anxiety in his eyes.

"Sir?"

Fletcher looked nervous.

"DCI Drake," he began, "she's… she's different, isn't she?"

Gene looked at him.

"Course she bloody is," he'd said, "I wouldn't have put a ring on her finger if she wasn't."

"I'm not interested in the intricacies of your relationship, Gene," said Fletcher, "I'm talking about her nature." He gave a deep sigh. "She's not the first DCI who's still alive out there. And hell knows, she's not going to be the last. But she's achieved something no one else has. Duality."

"Not in the right mood for word games," Gene told him.

"She's as real here as she is there," Fletcher said grimly, "isn't she? She still technically has a life there, but she's become a person here in her own right." he watched Gene's silent expression. "You never answered me. About the stars."

"The what?"

"On my ceiling, When Drake was poached by Fenchurch West… when she had her 'turn'." He felt terrible for raking it up. Gene's expression was gut-wrenching. "Let me try to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She was shot in the head and did a swap, right? Old for new and vice versa."

Gene stared at him. He swallowed. He was uncomfortable with the nature of this conversation.

"With respect, Sir, this isn't usually the sort of thing someone of…" he hesitated, "your rank should be discussing."

"Bollocks to that, Hunt, I was someone of _your_ rank for a long time. I'm not turning a blind eye to what goes on. That's what I'm _supposed_ to do, but you and Drake aren't exactly regulation issue DCIs, are you?"

Gene reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask in need of a swig.

"And look where that's got us," he said, "spoon-feeding Jimbo a bunch of nasties."

"You and Alex," Fletcher's use of Alex's first name made Gene pay more attention, "have sort of inspired me. You're not robots. Neither am I." he took a deep breath. There was more to come and it wasn't going to get any easier. "This… _pregnancy_," he began quietly and saw Gene bristle.

"If yer going to give me a lecture on the birds and the bees…"

Fletcher cut him off.

"It's more than her body here can handle," he said quietly, "remember, there _is_ no one else like her, Gene. Her health, her soul, her energy… it's trying to run two bodies simultaneously. Too much drain on one part and… the rest of her could easily get pulled to the other, completely."

Gene felt a horrible pain in his guts as they churned at the thought. He recalled a conversation they'd had just after Christmas. They were both worried that, even though Alex had made her decision, a weakening of her body in the 90s could cause a pull from the other side.

"Sir," he began hoarsely, "she's 'eard things. From over there. The other 'er is fading out. Brain surgery. Looking hopeless. Bye-Bye Bolly Two Thousand and Bollocks."

Fletcher looked at him seriously.

"Well I hope you're both right, Gene," he said quietly, "because this body, the one laying in there," he swallowed, "went as clear as the window behind you."

Gene stared at him.

"You want me to get you a shammy and a bucket?" he asked, but his words barely masked his anxiety.

"I saw her fade," Fletcher said quietly, "just for a moment. Out, then back." He dropped his head a little. "Look after that one, Gene. Next time she might not find it that easy to find her way back home."

He gave Gene a sincere nod, then turned and walked slowly away.

Ever since that moment Gene had sat beside Alex feeling sick and tortured, waiting for her to disappear again. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.

"Gene?" Alex's voice brought him back to the real world. He shook his head a little and looked at her.

"Tell me yer went to two thousand and bollocks just in time to hear them reading you yer last rites?" he said.

Alex swallowed. Her memories of the last period of time were hazy but she knew she hadn't experienced any of the things Gene was expecting.

"Something strange happened, Gene," she whispered as she tried to make sense of it, "it wasn't like last time."

"What d'you mean?" Gene frowned.

"I wasn't there… I wasn't _me_… wasn't in the hospital," she shook her head, "It wasn't like last time. I was…" she closed her eyes, aware how ridiculous her next sentence was going to sound, "I was someone else."

Gene stared at her.

"Bernie Winters?" he guessed, "Neil Morrissey?"

Alex wasn't in the mood for sarcasm.

"I was seeing things… other people…" she closed her eyes. "I know how this sounds Gene, I really do, but I saw Kim/."

"Bloody Stringer again?" cried Gene, "she's a recurring theme! Knew you had some secret desire to get yer arse pierced."

"I'm scared for her," Alex said quietly.

"Why?"

"I saw her. She was crying."

"Yer not going back to two thousand and bollocks to hand her a tissue, Bols," Gene warned.

"I'm serious, Gene, when did you ever see Kim cry?"

Gene hesitated. She had a point.

"Don't get why yer having nightmares about Stringer though," he said.

"It wasn't a nightmare," Alex shook her head, "I could see her. I was looking right at her, like I was there." She ran her hand through her hair, "like the worlds had moved so close I got a front row seat."

Gene breathed deeply. He didn't know what to make of Alex's comments. They sounded like the ramblings of a fevered mind, but at least she wasn't waking up in some other body, 15 years away.

"You faded, Alex."

She rarely heard him use her first name. Hearing it set her immediately on edge. She looked at him with an expression of shock.

"What?" she whispered.

"Fletcher saw you fade out and back," Gene told her. He couldn't look her in the eye. "It's too much for you, Bolly. The baby."

Alex looked at him in alarm.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"Your body's not coping," Gene breathed heavily into his hands as he still couldn't bear to look her in the eye. "It's too much for you. You're getting pulled over there, where your body's stronger."

"My…" she swallowed, "my body's not stronger over there, Gene," she whispered, "I'm… I'm dying."

"Well if yer dying you'd better hurry up and do it."

"_Gene!"_

"I'm serious," Gene finally looked her in the eye. "Carrying the sprog… It's draining you. Your body's too weak so your soul keeps taking an unpaid holiday."

Alex stared at him, her heart starting to pound.

"You want me to get rid of the baby?" she whispered, a darkness washing over her.

"I didn't say that, Bols."

"You didn't have to."

"I didn't even _think_ it," "Gene told her firmly, "and I never would." He exhaled and closed his eyes. "But you need to get stronger. Here."

Alex could hardly breathe with anxiety.

"How?"

Gene took a deep breath.

"Number one, you eat more. Number two, you rest more. Number three, no more stress." 

Alex looked at him a little crossly.

"Number one, tell the baby that. Number two, tell the criminals that. Number three, tell Keats that."

"Fletcher mentioned leave," Gene told her. The face she pulled wasn't unexpected. "And he's serious, Bolly. And so am I."

"I can't take leave."

"You'll have to," said Gene, "Fletcher's already seen to that." He saw the anger on her face and shook his head. "Right now I stand to lose you and the baby. Not going to do that. If leave is what it takes then you'll just have to…" he hesitated, "stick it up yer arse and get used to it."

Alex really didn't like the idea of taking leave. Just the thought of sitting at home with Daytime TV as her inly companion made her want to personally hire a hitman to take out Richard and Judy. But if that's what it took then she would do it.

"One condition," she said.

"What?"

"I'll take leave on one condition."

Gene eyed her up.

"What's the condition?" 

"You bring one crossword puzzle into the flat and you'll be the one taking leave – to recover from your broken bones."

"Point taken and duly noted," said Gene.

Alex ran her hand back and forth across her abdomen as she laid back and tried to absorb Gene's words. The thought that the pregnancy might be dragging her away from Gene was breaking her heart but she was determined not to lose either. She felt like she was standing right in the middle of the seesaw, not sure which way she was going to topple. But other things had scared her too. She'd seen more than just Kim crying, there were many snippets and moments of a whole other world all those years away that she'd witnessed. Too many things. She couldn't shake them from her mind.

How the hell had that happened? How had she managed to get a window onto another world? It terrified her. Exactly how close were worlds passing now?

Too close for comfort – that was for certain.

~xXx~

Deep in the basement of Fenchurch West Simon sat at his desk, staring at one of the suspicious stains on the floor, wondering who Keats's victim was that particular time. A drunken Kim? A drugged-up Alex? Who else had he taken down there? Simon's blood was boiling at the thought but at the same time he felt powerless to change the way things were going.

"It's no more than I deserve… no more than I deserve…" he muttered to himself over and over, and he really believed it. He'd made the ultimate mistake and now he was paying the price.

He sat bolt-upright as thunderous footsteps clattered towards him and he froze like an animal being stalked as Keats swept into the basement. He swallowed so hard he thought for sure Keats heard the gulp.

"Simon," Keats began, "Got a little job for my new DI."

Simon felt his stomach lurch as he recalled the confrontation that passed between them that morning. Keats had been serious about the demotion. What did that mean? If he was no longer a DCI did that mean he'd lost all that went with it? He looked down, not wanting to meet Keats's stare.

"What now?" he mumbled, "appointing me general fluffer?"

"Not far off the mark," he said, "my other DI, Victoria. Not liking her attitude." Simon glanced up and saw anger on Keats's face. "I need you to provide a distraction."

"What sort of a distraction?" Simon narrowed his eyes.

Keats ran his tongue around his lips as he tried to work out how to phrase it. He'd witnessed the spark between Victoria and Nailer and he knew the other side of the story – he knew from Victoria's file all about her undercover assignment, and he knew from his time in 2011 that Nailer had fallen for her, head over heels. Just because Victoria had no memory of what happened and Nailer was a man 15 years the junior of the one she romanced in 2011 didn't mean that history couldn't repeat itself. There was a spark and that made Keats worry.

It wasn't that Keats had the hots for Victoria. He was simply angry that she didn't have the hots for _him_. He felt that was his god-given right as her DCI. He hated seeing the coldness in her eyes as she stared at him and loved to think that she was jealous of all who came close to him when the truth of the matter was that she couldn't have been less interested if she tried.

But if she wasn't going to show any interest in him then he didn't want her showing interest in anyone else either. At least not anyone who'd be showing interest back.

"I want you to ask her out," he told Simon.

Simon's brow crumpled, certain it was some kind of a joke.

"What?"

"Ask her out. Make her think you're interested. She's showing too much interest in a rather unsavoury character."

"What, you?" Simon asked and found Keats's hand grasping his collar.

"Shut that fucking mouth of yours before I shove something _in_ it to shut you up," he hissed. He glared at Simon's wide, scared eyes and continued. "I want you to ask her out and make her fall for you. Get her away from Nailer." 

"Nailer?" Simon frowned in confusion, "What's he got to do with it? Isn't he in jail? And anyway, I'm not doing that." 

"Yes you are."

"Just because you can give me orders when I'm sitting at this desk, doesn't mean you can run my private life as well," Simon hissed.

"If it's for the good of this station I can," spat Keats.

"I don't see how it can be for the good of the station." Simon's head was spinning.

"And I'll be doing you a favour," said Keats.

"How do you figure that one out?" Simon challenged.

"Just because your little crew at Fenchurch East were all modern and accepting doesn't mean you'll get away with flaunting your rainbows all over the place here," Keats hissed into his face, "one or two of my men in CID wouldn't be too happy to find out you enjoy a trip up the back alley. But you convince Victoria to share an evening of your pleasant company and the rest of the station will be convinced you're batting for the same side. You get what I'm saying?"

"I get that you're a deluded idiot," Simon began but Keats dragged him out of his chair and pinned him against the wall. Simon felt his legs turn weak beneath him as he saw the full wrath of Keats burning in those dark eyes.

"I'm not liking your attitude right now, Simon," he sneered, "shape up or find your life becoming a hell of a lot less pleasant. You won't be taking _anything_ up the arse by the time I've let you off the fucking hot coals." He gave Simon one last shove and then let him slide to the ground with a lingering look of anger. "Don't forget, Simon. Victoria. You. Dinner." he walked towards the stairs. "This could be the start of a fine romance."

With his head in his hands Simon listened to the footsteps disappearing back up the staircase. It didn't seem to matter what he did, he just couldn't break free of Keats's cruel hold. Something had to change. He had to find the strength from somewhere. He was nearing breaking point and he knew Keats was hovering around, eagerly waiting to scavenge for the pieces.


	24. Chapter 23: If You're Thinking Of Me

**Chapter 23**

Simon had never felt like so much of a prat before. Never in his life. As he approached Victoria he knew it was only going to end in disaster. There was no way this was going to work, no way in the world. Simon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, a faint feeling of nausea stemming from his nerves.

"How the hell did I get into this?" he mumbled.

It wasn't as though he was even used to asking people out, let alone for fake dates. Had he ever asked anyone out? _Ever_? Even when he and Robin first got together there was no asking-out involved – they were two old friends who happened to bump into each other at work and decided to become reacquainted mutually. There was no asking out _there_.

"What do you even say when you're asking someone out?" Simon muttered to himself. Was it like in school where you had to pass notes along the row until they got to the person in question?

He saw Victoria looking downcast yet determined, poring over a file. She flicked her long red hair over her shoulder and stretched her leg out behind her as she leant over the table, Every man in the office was staring at her, just like they always did, but she didn't have eyes for any of them. In fact, since she arrived at Fenchurch West the first moment of attraction she'd felt to _anyone_ had been a strange moment of familiarity in the middle of HMP Fenchurch with a mean who dealt in drugs and charm in equal measures

"Victoria," Simon said quickly. She glanced around and her face darkened.

"Hello," she said quietly, mentally adding, _great, it's Four-Eyes' new project._

"I'm DCI…" he flinched, "_DI_ Shoebury," Simon held out his hand to shake hers but she didn't make a move.

"I know," she said simply.

Simon hesitated.

"You do?"

"You have been here before, remember?"

Simon but his lip. His brief spell in Fenchurch West had been many months ago, way back in November. So much water had passed under the bridge since then.

"Yeah. Right," he twitched nervously. He wasn't; sure where to go from here. He tried clearing his throat and began, "so, you've been working here for a while, huh?"

Victoria was tiring of this now.

"Way too long," she sighed, "from my first _day_ I'd been here too long."

Simon shuffled awkwardly.

"I'm struggling to find my feet a bit," he said.

Victoria gave a mocking laugh as she turned a page of her file.

"Well good luck, I never found mine," she said bitterly.

Simon started to frown. This would have been a whole lot easier of it hadn't happened on a day when Keats had already pissed her off so badly.

"So," he began, "I was thinking it might be good to get to know each other…?" He paused as she glanced around incredulously, "…maybe over dinner?" He felt himself sweating as she looked increasingly unimpressed with his words. "Tonight?"

She gave a sigh and turned back to her file.

"No, thank you."

Simon bit his lip. He didn't have a back-up plan.

"Just a drink then?"

She glanced back at him.

"Whatever he's put you up to this for, I'm not interested in getting mixed up in any more of his morbid manipulation," she said, then turned around again. "And if you're wise you'll stay out of if too."

Simon hesitated and started to play nervously with his hair.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Finally she closed the file and gave him her full attention.

"Well, first of all," she began, "this is clearly some sort of set-up because, number one, it's common knowledge that you prefer human beings with a penis at their beck and call." She watched him turn red, "number two, you've been allowed out of the basement before home-time and that's never a good sign. And number three," she sighed and shook her head. "It's clear you're DCI Four-Eyes' new bum boy."

Simon felt himself beginning to shake.

"I beg your pardon," he hissed.

Victoria closed her eyes.

"Look, you're not the first and you won't be the last," she said, "he drags someone in here, prances about with them, showing them off like a trophy, then leaves them to rot in the basement until he wants something. Usually sex, by the sounds we hear coming through the ventilation system."

Simon swallowed.

"I have never had sex in the basement," he said indignantly.

Victoria sighed. 

"_Yet_," she said knowingly, before she turned away.

Simon felt his guts turning and churning as she lost interest in the conversation completely and turned back to her file. The whole asking-out thing was not exactly going to plan, and more than that she'd called him out on just about everything. This was a normal pattern of behaviour for Keats and he was merely the latest victim. He swallowed hard to stop his lunch from making a return appearance and said quietly.

"I'll… I'll leave you alone then."

Victoria absently waved her hand behind her.

"Bye," she mumbled.

Simon's breaths were shallow and anxious as he turned and walked back to the basement. He knew there was going to be a comeback from this as soon as Keats realised he'd failed to charm Victoria. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't force a woman into going on what she already knew was some sort of a set-up. The further wrath of Keats was due to fall upon him and all he could do was to wait for the inevitable attack.

~xXx~

"You look deep in thought, Bols," Gene said warily. It didn't do for Alex to think too deeply about something. That usually meant a notebook would be on its way.

"just trying to work out how I am going to get through a week's leave without sticking my head in the toaster," she said.

Gene glanced at her as he stopped at a red light.

"Looks more serious than that," he said. He could tell from her expression that he was right. So what is it this time?" he watched her face grow anxious. "hospital voices? Doctors luring you 'ome with the promise of lollypops?"

Alex closed her eyes and gave a deep sig.

"No," she said.

"What then?"

She shook her head slowly.

"I'm worried about something," she said quietly, "what happened to me earlier… It wasn't normal." She scratched her head. "I mean… Surely when you get a message it can only come through where your body is. Right? Like in the hospital, or wherever you are when you're found."

"Gene's world _one-oh-one,"_ said Gene.

"Right. So how could I see other people, Gene?" she looked at him, hoping he had a response but he carried on driving, "I was right there. I saw Kim, crying her eyes out. I know it was her house, I remember the bedroom."

Gene tried to pretend that he wasn't worrying about the same things but it was impossible. They'd been playing on his mind since she had first spoken of them. Eventually, as they pulled up outside the flat, he looked at her and said,

"The Super says you're different."

Alex sighed.

"I'd have to be to put up with you for fifteen years," she said.

"You're real. Here, and there. You've got yer feet in both worlds, Bolly. Never happened before. Don't know how much of a difference that can make."

Alex bit her lip a little nervously. She nodded slowly. That sounded like a possible reason but she still didn't see how that would work.

"Still feels like we're in X-Files territory," she said quietly.

Gene reached up and played with her hair.

"Speaking of which, you need yer roots looking at," he said, her Gillian Anderson cut starting to grow out a little. Alex sighed and nodded. She knew she needed that seen to, as soon as she felt a little stronger in herself.

"I know," she said, "looks like you'll have to borrow that magazine from Simon again."

"Not setting foot anywhere near him until he'd back where he belongs," Gene said coldly.

Alex sighed. She'd never had a chance to go and speak to him that day. They still needed to find out why he'd taken the drastic step of going to Fenchurch West and they were no closer to finding out. _Tomorrow_, She told herself. _Tomorrow I'll go and speak to him. And then we'll know for sure_. She hated to see the way Simon's apparent defection was affecting Gene. He'd not had a real friend since Sam and the thought that Simon had betrayed him was truly getting to him. If there was a way to mend the situation then Alex was determined to do it.

"Now, Bols," Gene began, Get in that flat and rest, or I'll demote you to car park patrol."

"Oh bollocks you will, sighed Alex, "you'll do that and then you'll worry I'm going to go and scratch your car." 

Gene hesitated. She had a point.

"Alright then," he said, "get in there and rest and pick yer own threat."

"Can't you use the carrot instead of the stick?" sighed Alex.

Gene hesitated.

"I hope that's not a euphemism for me favourite bodily organs," he said, glancing downward.

"_No_, Gene, I mean how about finding a reason for me to stay at home and rest instead of a punishment in case I choose to ignore your advice?"

Gene hesitated. He cleared his throat.

"That depends," he said.

"On?"

Gene glanced at her sideways.

"You know, all this pregnancy mallarky… not sure what you can and can't do any more."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you allowed to take part in a recreation?"

Alex frowned.

"Of what crime?" she frowned.

"Of the moment some suave and sophisticated DCI knocked you up," Gene said, as eloquently as ever.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure that's perfectly acceptable," she said, "although it doesn't sound much like resting."

Gene hesitated.

"It still means you'll be in bed."

"That's a very valid point, Guv," said Alex.

Gene nodded.

"Alright, Lady B – You warm the bed up and I'll get the handcuffs."

Alex felt herself smirk a little as she got out of the car. Maybe 'leave' wouldn't be so bad after all.


	25. Chapter 24: Unbreak My Heart

**Chapter 24**

It had been a sleepless night for Simon who had lain anxiously staring at the ceiling for hours on end. His head went round and round in circles, trying to work out what to do and how to get out of his goddamn mess but no answers came to him, no matter how hard he stressed about it.

Eventually the morning arrived and he found himself getting up and dressed like a zombie. Sleep wasn't exactly his closest companion right now. He couldn't face breakfast either so he got himself a strong coffee to try to wake him up a little then cursed as a knock sounded at the door before he'd even managed to raise the cup to his lips.

"Who the fuck…?" he muttered as he walked to answer it. The moment he unlocked the door it flew open and standing before him was Keats, a smile brimming over with malevolence on his face.

"Ding dong, Avon calling," he said, marching in. Simon took a few steps backwards as he felt his pulse quicken with fear.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Just come to see how you and Victoria are enjoying your first breakfast together as a couple," Keats said sarcastically, making a big show of peering all around him. "Funny, I can't seem to see her here. You can't tell me she's gone already. What happened, Simon? Do you snore? Did you wet the bed?"

Simon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd known something like this was going to happen, but it didn't make him feel any the less anxious.

"She wasn't interested," he said quietly.

Keats stared at him.

"Your job was to make her interested," he said crossly.

"She knew it was a set up," said Simon.

"You mean you failed," said Keats.

Simon hesitated, then exploded with anger.

"Yes, alright, I _did_, I bloody failed. Happy? I failed to make Victoria want to go out with me because she actually has more than three brain cells and knew exactly what was going on!"

Keats raised an eyebrow.

"Temper temper, Simon," he said.

"And contrary to what you had me believe," Simon continued, "everyone not only seems to know I'm gay but so far no one's batted an eyelid. And," his face was reddening with anger, "furthermore it seems they all know exactly why I'm even there. Apparently you do this a lot – parading someone up and down like you've just won first prize in some contest, then drag your new recruit to the basement and let your _sex noises_ filter through the whole building via the ventilation system!"

Keats gave a chuckle of amusement at Simon's furious expression.

"Simon, Simon, Simon," he sighed, "just because Victoria's using her brain doesn't mean the other drones have half an ounce of sense between them. If you think it's all that cut and dried then you're sorely mistaken. And none of this excuses your abject failure," he took a step forward, backing Simon against the wall.

"Victoria is not interested," Simon said crossly, "and more than that she knows it's blatantly obvious I'm not interested in her!"

"So lie," hissed Keats, "tell her you're bisexual. Tell her you've had your heart broken by a tall, dark, handsome stranger and never want to see another fucking cock again as long as you live. Tell her she's so beautiful she's got you on the turn. I don't fucking care. All I care about is you getting her away from that stubbly drug-addled twat in the cells."

"So _you_ bloody seduce her then!" cried Simon, "since it seems to be one of your special skills." He narrowed his eyes at Keats as a long lingering anger and resentment began to flood out of him. "You and your arsenal of pills and portions and canisters of god knows what. Bloody gas and air. Why not send her down to the basement and turn on the fumes?"

"Because," Keats's face was just an inch away from Simon's now, "the basement is reserved for the special ones. And there's nothing special about Victoria. Doesn't matter how many times she flicks her hair and hitches up her skirt."

"Oh yeah?" Simon challenged, "I thought you said it was all the same to you; man, woman or goat."

"I still have some standards," said Keats. He fixed Simon in his stare and Simon found it very hard to look away. Even when he managed, he felt those dark eyes drawing his gaze back to him. "There are ways and means, Simon. Ways and means of persuasion."

Simon swallowed.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

Kats fixed him in that gaze.

"If you want something badly enough," he hissed, "you can get it. You just need that hunger in your eyes."

Simon gulped. Keats certainly had the hunger in his eyes right there and then. And it was making it very hard to fight against him.

~xXx~

"This isn't looking a lot like being on leave to me," Gene frowned as he eyed Alex walking around his office.

"Nonsense, Gene," she said quickly, "if I wasn't on leave I'd be sitting at my desk, wouldn't I? But I'm not," she smiled charmingly, "I'm entertaining you in your office."

Gene narrowed his eyes at her. This wasn't exactly the leave he had in mind for her. But at least if she was pottering around in his office she wasn't doing work of her own and he could keep an eye on her.

"Haven't you got toilet bowls to christen?" he asked.

"Not this morning," Alex shook her head. She thought she'd cracked the morning sickness at last. A couple of dry, plain biscuits when she woke up seemed to settle her stomach and quell the nausea. The only problem was that Gene tended to get hungry in the middle of the night and wolf down most of the packet, leaving few there by morning. He had a sixth sense for biscuits. And although they weren't exactly pink wafers, when Gene woke up in the middle of the night with a penchant for biscuits they were a fine substitute. She supposed she was going to have to try to find a better hiding place. Either that or a loyalty card for McVitties.

"Well don't you need an emergency piss or something?" Gene asked.

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" Alex pouted.

"Because I'm worried if I get a file you're going to pounce on it and start working!" cried Gene.

Alex sighed and leaned a little against the back of a chair.

"I feel much better today," she said, and she did. There had been no dizziness or headache and with the lessening nausea she'd managed to eat a couple of proper meals too. But Gene wasn't interested.

"You're supposed to be at home, making friends with Richard and Judy," he said, Not sitting in me office like nothing's different!"

"_Something's_ different," she protested, "I'm in here and I'm not looking at paperwork!" she stopped talking abruptly as a strange noise began. She glanced around, trying to locate the source. It sounded a little like distant chatter of voices, merriment. She frowned and glanced through the doorway, half expecting to see some kind of commotion in CID but apart from Eddie scratching his backside there was no one around. "Gene, did you hear that?"

Gene glanced up.

"Hear what?" he paused, "I hope you're not accusing me of letting one go…" 

"_Ew!_ No, Gene," Alex frowned. She sighed and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just imagining things. Don't worry about it."

"I wasn't," said Gene who was fairly sure this was some sort of tactic to convince him to let her get some work done. He scratched his head. "Bols, do us a favour. Go down the hall and give Vickery the good news that, since Shoebury's buggered off, he gets the honour of fetching me latte this morning. And tell him if he gets the right number of sugars there a promotion in it for him."

"Tell him yourself!" cried Alex, "I'm not your slave!"

"Jesus, woman!" cried Gene, "you won't rest, you won't go and pass on me message, you can't have it both ways!"

Alex sighed.

"Fine," she said, opening the door, "I'll pass on your message. But I'm adding biscuits to the order and intercepting them before they get anywhere near your mouth."

"Cheeky cow," Gene commented but was at least relieved that the latte message would keep her away from the files for a few minutes.

As Alex started to walk through CID, thinking about which biscuits to request, she felt a strange tingling down her spine. She froze for a moment and glanced around at the sensation like fingers of darkness sliding down her back. At first she couldn't seem to see anything amiss and carried on walking through the office, out into the corridor beyond but the second time she felt a creeping sensation down her spine she turned around and saw the onset of a darkened sky above her with strange starlight twinkling brightly. Her eyes opened as wise as saucers as her hand rose to her mouth and she stumbled blindly back against the wall.

"Oh God," she gasped, "Oh my _god…"_ the stars continued to shine and a strange hum of chatter filled the air, setting her heart rate to high and her fear level to overload. She found her legs starting to buckle beneath her as she yelled for Gene, calling out his name time and again

The sound of her cries filtered through to him and he raced from his office, through CID, half expecting to find her on the ground after another turn but instead he found her with her eyes focused above her, the starlight filling her mind with anxiety.

"Oh _shhhhhhhhit,"_ he hissed as his eyes followed hers and the turning, swirling pattern of stars greeted him. He swallowed and reached forward instinctively to hold her, the shock of what they were seeing knocking him sideways.

He heard the hubbub of voices, he saw the twinkling of starlight and somewhere in the distance _Life on Mars_ was playing.

_#... But her friend is nowhere to be seen_

_Now she walks through her sunken dream...#_

In an instant Alex tore away from Gene's hold and ran, the horror of what she had seen and heard finally striking her.

"_Bolly!"_ Gene yelled after her, his voice torn between worry and anger. Where the hell was she going? He took chase and followed her to her office where she was already standing, staring out of the window. Her arms were folded, her fingers scratching at her skin with anxiety.

"Bolly," Gene's voice was calmer now. She didn't turn back to him, couldn't react. All she could do was to shake her head.

"Stars again, Gene?" she whispered, "we know what happened before. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Gene took a deep breath. He let it out slowly as he encroached upon her.

"I don't know, Bolly," he said.

She finally turned to face him.

"No one's due for a visit to the pub," she whispered, shaking a little, "so why is this happening?" she stared at Gene. There was a look of panic in his eyes. "What's happening?"

Gene shook his head slowly.

"I'm not sure, Drake," he said quietly.

"Even Keats isn't on the premises," Alex pointed out, "so what are the stars for?" she looked at him with fear in her eyes. "It's not… not our time…?"

"No," Gene said firmly, "it's not our time. We've got plenty of work to do around here." He paused, "Besides, I'm not spending decades wiping their noses and watching them head off to the pub just to walk out on me own life now I've finally got one." He shook his heads. "No, Bols, it's not our time." 

"Then what?"

Gene looked down as a possibility slowly dawned on him. It seemed impossible but it was the only solution he could think of.

"I saw stars before, you know," he said quietly, "when you were off on yer Alex Exchange Visit to two thousand and bollocks. The other you defected and there were stars across me ceiling."

Alex bit her lip.

"Simon…" she began.

Gene nodded very slowly.

"It's possible," He said.

"You think," Alex began slowly, "because Simon's… _transferred_… it's set something off here? It's starting to," she choked a little,_ "fall apart?"_

Gene hesitated. He took a deep breath.

"Thought it wouldn't be possible yet," he said quietly, "he's only been here a few months. You'd been here almost fifteen years. Didn't think his position here was so firmly-footed."

Alex closed her eyes for a moment.

"Maybe there's something else happening then?" she asked quietly, but both of them knew that there seemed no alternative answer. Simon's departure seemed to have caused more shockwaves through the station than either realised was possible.

"We need to do something, Bolly," Gene said quietly, "whatever Shoebury's trying to hide from us isn't worth losing our world over."

Alex nodded slowly.

"I was supposed to be talking to him," she reminded Gene.

"Like I'm going to let you pay a social visit to the Wild West," said Gene.

"I wouldn't go there if you paid me," Alex shuddered, "in biscuits." She shook her heads. "No, Gene, I'll go to Simon's. Maybe he's not left for work yet."

"No stress, remember?" Gene reminded her,.

"Gene, the ceiling was full of stars!" cried Alex, "that's about as stressful as life can get!" she hesitated as she rubbed her head. "I have to go and speak to him, Gene. After that…" she shook her head. "We need to sort this out as fast as we can. Whatever is happening… whatever he's trying to hide… if we can just find out what it is then we can work out how to convince him to come back and get rid of the light show on the ceiling."

"I'm not happy about you storming off over there," Gene told her, "first time the sprog's let you keep down three meals in a row. You want to undo yer good work with a visit to Chez Shoebury?"

"if he's not there I'll go home and rest," Alex bargained, "and pay him a visit tonight." She saw Gene in two minds, "Come on, guv," she sidled up to him a little, "you know he wouldn't talk to you about it. Maybe he'll talk to me. "

Gene gave a deep sigh and eyes her warily. He didn't like this, not at all, but if the station was about to start crumbling around them then anything was worth a try.

"One twinge, one headache, one threat of puking and you go straight home," he warned.

Alex smiled.

"Understood, Guv," she smiled cheekily.

Gene nodded slowly.

"Alright," he said, "see what you can get out of Shoe-Boy." He paused as he glanced behind him and spotted one last wave of starlight sweep down the corridor. "Before I have to install street lights in me office," he concluded.


	26. Chapter 25: Trash

**Chapter 25**

There was always a part of Simon that wondered how it was possible; how Keats could bend the will of such strong people just by staring into their eyes and trapping them in his stare. Neither Kim nor Alex were weak, neither were pushovers, and he had never been able to fathom how it was possible. But as Keats held him in his stare it all seemed to make sense.

Those eyes were so deep, so dark; they could fix upon you and reach deep inside your soul. They could hook you like a fish on the end of a line, drag you slowly inwards until there was nowhere to go but to him. He recalled Kim's words when she first explained how things happened – that her body just seemed to open up to him. He never thought he'd be standing right where Kim had been.

"Just get out my flat," he whispered, trying to break free of those eyes but Keats simply leaned forward, one hand resting against the wall beside him, and with a sly smile he said,

"Don't you think you should make it up to me first?"

"Make what up to you?"

"Letting me down. Failing with Victoria."

Simon swallowed and blinked but he couldn't stop staring into those eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" he hissed, shaking, "why am I your latest victim?"

"Don't think of it as being a victim, Simon," Keats smiled charmingly, "just being the chosen one."

"That's not a role I wanted to fulfil," Simon said awkwardly.

"You wanted it the other night," Keats reminded him with one eyebrow tipping upwards.

Simon flinched. Did he have to remind him of that?

"Just get out and leave me alone," he whispered.

Keats reached forward. The smile that wasn't going anywhere told Simon exactly what he wanted.

"Come on, Simon," he began, "it's not like you weren't a willing party."

"First time anyone ever has been, isn't it?" Simon tried to hold his nerve but those eyes were boring into him.

Keats leaned closer, his face a whisper away now.

"Come on, Simon," he whispered, "what's that line… when you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with?"

"Whoever it was that wrote that line obviously wasn't standing next to you," Simon's voice almost gave out as he spoke. He found Keats's hand against the side of his face, reaching slowly into his hair, playing with his curls.

"I wasn't the only one who enjoyed it," he hissed, "was I? You wanted it just as much as I did."

"I was fucking drunk," Simon hissed through gritted teeth.

"Not too pissed to know what you were doing," Keats commented. He rested his fingers beneath Simon's chin and pulled him in closer. "Come on, Simon. You're all alone, you've lost Robin, you've waked away from Fenchurch East, there's nothing to stop you."

"Except my morals," Simon whispered.

"Oh yeah? And where were they the other night, hmm?" Keats smiled, "Go on, Simon – give in."

One last stare; one last hook from those eyes and Simon felt his self-control sliding away. He's already started to stiffen, now his lower quarters were taking on a life of their own as his eyes started to close and he found Keats's lips pressed up hard against his, slamming his head back against the wall. The kiss was hard and angry, full of desperation and need. Simon tried not to respond, he furiously tried to resist and willed himself to fight his way out of Keats's grasp but his hold on him was too strong and all he could do was to succumb, to give un to the animalistic need that was burning inside of him.

He knew he was being used, just like all the rest. Kim, Alex – now him. But he didn't care because Keats's strange hold over him _stopped_ him from caring.

He felt Keats's hands moving downwards as the man whose lips were still joined with his hurriedly unfastened his belt and trousers and pushed them down. He tore his face away and breathed,

"Come on, Simon, might let you finish the job this time," turned his own back to the wall and pushed Simon's head firmly downward. Simon knew exactly what Keats wanted and as much as he tried to fight it he found himself obliging, taking him in his mouth he moved against him; harder, faster, hearing his groans and feeling the hand that worked its way through his hair. He didn't want to do this – but he had to. Keats made him want to. He made him –

"Simon, are you –"

The voice from behind him put an end to the strange spell as those words were followed by a gasp of horror.

"_Oh my god –"_

Simon pulled his head from Keats' grasp and left him hanging as he turned around and saw Alex in the open doorway, the door still left ajar from Keats's arrival some minutes earlier. Never had he seen such a look of anguish and disgust on another person's face. Never had he seen eyes so full of anger and hurt. Never had he seen a face so full of horror and revulsion.

That moment seemed to go on forever. To Simon it seemed like life had been paused indefinitely; Keats still leaning against the wall, groaning, waiting for Simon to continue… Alex standing in the open door, her trust crumbling before his very eyes… and himself, in the middle of the mess, torn between trying to explain – _somehow_ – what Alex had seen and the strange pull from Keats that was urging him to go back and finish what he had started.

Alex's face twisted and contorted as she stared. She was struck dumb; there were no words to describe what went through her mind in that instant. But suddenly a physical sensation overtook her, brought on by the revulsion she felt and the shock of what she'd seen. Her hand rose to her mouth as the contents of her stomach threatened to come up on Simon's floor and she raced from the flat as fast as her legs would take her.

"Oh _god_, Alex, wait," Simon cried, her expression making the decision for him. Aware that a trouserless and desperate Keats was still leaning against the wall, waiting for the conclusion to the act that Simon had performed, he abandoned him and his flat to chase after her, desperately hoping he might be able to salvage something of their trust and friendship.

Of all the moments… all the things to see…

Why hadn't he just been honest in the first place? Why hadn't he admitted what he'd done? He knew that Alex and Gene would struggle to understand but that would have been a hundred times better than being caught with _Little Jimbo_ in his mouth.

"Alex," he cried as he chased her out of the building where she leaned over a railing and her stomach purged itself of its contents, the images she'd seen burnt into her mind forever. Simon closed his eyes and flinched as he heard her retch again, put his hand to his head and begged silently for some kind of divine intervention to take him away from that terrible moment.

He could do nothing but stand there, waiting until Alex finished throwing up and slowly returned to an upright position, still coughing a little, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Her stomach was sore now and still churning away but it was the sight of Simon that made her feel truly ill as she turned around slowly.

"How _could_ you?"

Those were the only words that she could breathe. Simon's eyes closed and he choked out a loud, heart-wrenching sob as the terrible truth began to sink in. He leaned against the wall then slowly sank to the ground, shaking his head as all the guilt, the anguish, the self-disgust and self-hatred began to seep out of him.

"I'm sorry," he cried, barely able to get the words out, "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Alex –"

"Keats?" Alex couldn't wrap her head around it, "after all he's done to you…"

"I know, I know," Simon cried. He put his head in his hands and continued to shake it as he tried to compose himself. He could hear Alex's footsteps coming closer until she stood right beside him and knelt down beside him.

"Why, Simon?" she whispered, "why did you do it?"

That was the hardest question of all to answer.

"I don't know," he cried, "Oh God, I'm so sorry…" 

He thought there would be no end to it; that he would stay crouching there forever, sobbing with regret and remorse. He couldn't imagine how anything would change, how he would eventually move and escape that moment, but a hand reached out to him.

"You can't stay there all day," Alex said quietly.

Simon's head slowly rose. He looked at her in shock. 

"What?"

Alex glanced around. People were staring and with the station just a stone's throw away she realised this wasn't the best place to conduct this conversation.

"Come on," she said quietly, "let's go somewhere. We'll talk."

Simon looked at her incredulously, half expecting her to punch his lights out but her hand was genuine and her face, although still filled with disgust, showed concern also. It cut him up inside – he knew he didn't deserve her worry. Slowly he accepted her hand and let her help him to his feet. He kept his head bowed in shame as she offered to take him to Latte Land and get him a strong coffee to help calm his anxiety.

The walk there was silent and stilted. Neither could bring themselves to look at the other, one with shame and the other with repulsion. When they finally arrived Simon sat at a table and waited for Alex to bring him his coffee. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. How had he ended up in that situation again? He hated himself for it with every bone of his body.

A large, steaming mug appeared in front of him and a rather pale and awkward-looking Alex sat opposite.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Alex stared at him. She didn't really know what to say for some time. She had a thousand questions, yet she wasn't sure she was ready for any answers. Finally she looked him in the eye, which was hard enough to do, and then said quietly,

"I do understand. In a way."

Simon bit his lip.

"What?"

Alex looked down at the unopened biscuits she'd bought herself. She played with the packet as she said quietly.

"I've almost been there too. Remember?" she closed her eyes as a terrible memory choked her. "And the _other_ me…" she shook her head. "well, she was dragged right under. Wasn't she?"

She looked back at Simon as he nodded slowly.

"Yes," he whispered.

Alex wished she'd bought herself a coffee. At least then she could stir it to distract herself. She drew in a breath and finally asked,

"So this is why you left us?"

Simon looked down.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "it seemed like the best thing to do," he paused before adding grimly, "the _only_ thing to do. I was so ashamed, I hated myself for what I'd done and I was desperate to keep it from you and Gene. Keats told me the only way was to…" he swallowed, "to leave Fenchurch East and work for him instead."

Alex shook her head slowly.

"Simon, you could have told us the truth," she whispered.

"How the hell could I?" cried Simon, "I mean, the look on your face… your reaction just then… those are the very reasons I couldn't tell you! I knew exactly how badly you'd react… and it's no more than I deserve either." 

"But leaving us to work for him?" cried Alex, "that's too much, Simon. That's too extreme. "

"I was so angry with myself," Simon shook his head, "I couldn't face telling you. And then when you and Gene announced the pregnancy I knew I had to get Keats away from the station and that was the only way." 

Alex looked down and nodded slowly, her hand wandering to her stomach protectively.

"But even so," she said quietly, "you could have told us. We could have helped you."

"No one can help me," Simon said quietly, "I'm beyond redemption."

"That's nonsense," Alex told him crossly.

"I deserve this for what I've done." Simon said quietly.

"No you don't," Alex said firmly, "you're not the first person he's done this to. You know that. Do you think we should have all turned our backs on Kim? Or on me?"

"No," Simon said quietly, "of course not. But… but it was different with you."

"I don't see how."

Simon hung his head, surprised by the tears building in his eyes.

"Alex," he said quietly, "the first time, I…" he closed his eyes tightly. "I _wanted_ to."

There was a moment of silence.

"What?"

"He didn't have any gas and air or pills or even use that… that _stare_," he shook his head, "I was pissed and… I went round there…"

Alex wasn't sure she was following him now.

"Simon, slow down and start at the beginning," she said quietly.

Simon held his head in his hands.

"Shit… it was the day Kim went home," he whispered, "I felt awful. It was such a wrench, I missed her so badly." He took a deep breath. "Still do. I'd been drinking all day…. Nicked Gene's scotch in Kim's honour," He glanced at Alex and saw her give a tiny smile, "the more pissed I got the angrier I felt about Keats. In went round to his flat. I… I was stupid, I wanted to hurt him… wanted to get rid of him somehow, so he could never hurt anyone again. But when I got there he smashed his head against a mirror and wound up with a head full of glass.

Alex swallowed hard, trying to hold back another tidal wave.

"Shit," she whispered. "That explains the…" she did a brief mime of Keats's new hairstyle.

"Yeah," Simon nodded slowly. He looked her in the eye at last. "He was different, Alex. It was the human side. The one we rarely see. Kim's departure had set something off in him. That and his guilt over making her miscarry." Images and flashbacks came rapidly through his mind as he thought about it. "it… it had been so long since I'd been with anyone, Alex… so long since I'd been touched," he felt a little awkward saying such things to her but the truth was on its way out now and there was no stopping it. "A-and he was looking at me, and then things… started to happen," he swallowed. "the next thing I knew we were kissing and then we –" his voice was barely audible now, "moved on." He looked away. "But halfway though, he changed. He stopped being human and turned into the monster again. Then he… he got what he wanted from me and sent me out into the cold."

Alex's expression flitted between horror and pity.

"And he used it against you," she whispered.

Simon nodded.

"Yeah." 

She took a few deep breaths. Her stomach still felt unsettled and the images of what she'd seen were not helping but she managed to keep her nausea under control and whispered,

"Simon, you have to tell Gene."

Simon looked up in horror.

"I can't!" he cried.

"You've got to," Ale urged him, "I know it's hard…"

"That is _not_ a word I want to hear in relation to the situation…"

"…But if you tell him he can help you. We both can."

"Oh, _how_?" Simon shook his head angrily, "there's nothing that can be done now. I've transferred. He's demoted me. He's got me right here he wants me and I deserve it. 

"Thinking like that isn't going to help." 

"It's true though," Simon told her, "I made a really, _really_ fucking stupid mistake and I have to live with the consequences.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Alex urged him, "and as bad as this one is you have to face it head on."

"I am… I _did_… that's why I left Fenchurch East."

"But we need you, Simon," Alex leaned across the table and reached out to grab his hand, "listen to me. You have no idea how important you are to that place." 

"I'm nothing," Simon shook his head, "I never fitted in, I've never settled, I'm just dragging the rest of you down." 

"Things are falling apart without you."

"Yeah, right. 

"_Literally_ falling apart without you." She looked at him seriously. "You've put stars on the ceiling, Simon."

Simon stared at her.

"Stars?" he whispered.

Alex nodded slowly.

"Gene and I… we both saw them."

Simon looked down.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry – just get your backside back to work," Alex urged him.

Simon shook his head.

"I can't. You know I can't. Gene will never forgive me… Keats will never let me go… face it, I'm fucked."

Alex shook her head.

"You're not, Simon," she said crossly, "not unless you listen to you own stupid attitude. We need you back. And if you won't listen to me then I'll have to find someone you _will_ listen to."

Simon stared on in horror as she got to her feet.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he cried anxiously, already knowing inside what she meant.

"If you won't talk to Gene, then _I_ will," she told him.

Simon stared at her, pleading with his eyes.

"Please don't do this," he begged.

Alex wished there was another way but she didn't see how. One way or another Gene had to know. Their station was at stake, the world was at stake – and their friend's soul was at stake.

"You're coming back, Simon," she told him, "one way or another." 

Then she turned and left, Simon's yelled protests fading as the shop door closed behind her. She knew that Gene wouldn't take the news well but at least now they knew the reasons for his departure they could work on getting him back. Keats and his malevolent ways had notched up another victim but now the truth was out they could fight it – together. They just needed to convince Simon of that.


	27. Chapter 26: Wrong

**Chapter 26**

Alex spent the whole walk back to the station trying to work out how to tell Gene. She was under no illusions – he wasn't going to take it well. But she knew that Gene _had_ to know and if Simon wouldn't tell him then she'd have to do the unpleasant task instead.

The door of his office kindly opened for her as Gene glanced up from his file and looked shocked by her arrival.

"Bolly," he began, "did I just _imagine_ you saying you were going to go and rest?"

Alex closed the door behind her.

"We need to talk," she said seriously.

"If it's about the hair in the plug'ole I told you, that's not mine."

Alex drew the blinds and suddenly Gene knew she was serious.

"I found Simon," she said quietly, "and I know what's happening. I know why he left."

Gene's eyes opened a little wider.

"Well come on then, Drake, spit it out," Gene immediately dropped his papers and looked at her, "the sooner we get him back in these four walls the sooner we can get rid of the planetarium on our bloody ceiling.

Alex stepped forward and gingerly took a seat. She cleared her throat and looked around the room; the lights, the window, the stapler on Gene's desk. Everywhere except at Gene himself

"It's a bit delicate," she said quietly.

"He had a hangover?"

"No, he was not _feeling_ delicate…" she shook her head slightly, "I mean the situation." She cleared her throat and finally looked at hm. "Gene, I caught Simon in a…" she flinched a little as the memory came back to her, "a compromising situation."

Gene stared at her.

"Oh yeah?" he raised an eyebrow.

Alex nodded.

"I had a bit of a shock," she said quietly, "It was my own fault for not knocking, but…"

"Bolly, just tell me," Gene leaned across the desk a little, "please. Let's stop all this bloody transfer nonsense and get that Shoe-Shop twat back under our roof."

Alex looked at him seriously.

"Please don't overreact," she began.

"That's… a comforting start," frowned Gene.

"He's too afraid to tell you about it."

"About what?" Gene was starting to lose patience by now.

Alex drew in a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him.

"I caught him in the middle of a-an _act_," she began.

"What kind of an 'act'?" gene frowned.

"A sexual one," Alex said a little more bluntly. She bit her lip. "With Keats."

She almost imagined the stars to appear with the revelation that spilled from her lips. As it was, Gene's expression seemed to travel through several stages, from a fixed look of disbelief to horror, to disgust, to anger and finally his face took on a green hue and Alex feared he was about to do exactly the same thing that she'd done outside Simon's flat. The silence seemed to go on forever as, for the first time in his life, Gene Hunt was struck completely and utterly speechless. Finally he managed to choke out one word;

"_What?"_

Alex chewed on her lip again.

"I'm sorry, Gene," she whispered.

Gene's face turned from green to red as his blood slowly started to boil.

"It's not you who needs to be sorry," he began to yell, "It's that over-sexed shoe-shop assistant who can't keep it in his _pants_!"

"No, Gene," she began as he got to his feet, "wait, you can't go storming off like this –"

"Watch me," Gene said as he stomped around the side of his desk but Alex got to her feet and grasped his arm.

"Gene, wait," she said crossly, "stop and think."

"Doing the bloody green cross code now an' all?" Gene snapped.

"No, that's _stop, look and listen,"_ Alex sighed.

"I don't want to do any of those things, thank you very much!" Gene said in horror.

"Just wait and listen," she gripped him by the arms and looked him in the eye. "Before you start screaming in his face remember this is not the first time that Keats has got his hooks into someone."

"So Shoebury should know better," Gene cried.

"It's not that straightforward, Gene," Alex began, "Simon hit his lowest ebb, he's lost without Kim, he doesn't know what he's doing half the time and Keats knows when to catch someone at their most vulnerable. He did it to me. To _two_ 'me's. To Kim. He must have done it to others at some point. Simon's not the first. Remember that."

Gene found himself starting to calm down just a fraction. The initial wave of anger directed at Simon was starting to pass and now his anger was settling with Keats; that was easier to deal with. He was used to feeling angry with Keats. Being angry with Simon, who he considered a rare friend in this world, didn't sit right with him. Feeling slightly silly about his immediate response he slowly walked back around the desk and took his seat again. Following his lead, Alex sat down opposite him.

"So," he began awkwardly, "what exactly happened?"

Alex cleared her throat.

"Well," she began, "Simon was down on his knees and Keats was –"

"No, no, _no!"_ cried Gene, "I don't want a description of the bloody act, woman!" he blanched and tried not to think about that aspect of it, "I meant what did Simon tell you? How did he justify his encounter with_ little Jimbo?"_

Alex looked downcast as she felt a little saddened by Simon's situation.

"He's low, Gene. He misses Robin. He's got no one… no one to bring him love or affection."

"Tell 'im to get one of those blow up dolls," Gene muttered, uncomfortable with the subject.

"Just because he's gay doesn't make him any different from you," Alex told him, "he needs someone in his life. Just like you did." She raised an eyebrow and Gene felt a little ashamed as he recalled the years where he and Alex were skirting around the issue of their attraction, playing stupid games and never quite getting it together. He remembered how lonely he grew sometimes. He .looked down and breathed in deeply.

"Alright," he said quietly, "suppose you might have a point. But the difference was that I didn't go bouncing around on Jimbo's _joy department."_

"He'd been drinking," Alex continued, "Kim had just gone home, he was feeling very much alone and he made a mistake."

"As far as mistakes go this one ranks up salongsode leaning against the 'Press To Start Nuclear War' button, setting it off and saying '_whoops',"_ Gene mumbled.

"But it was still a mistake," Alex urged him, "come on, Gene – are you telling me you've never made a mistake in your life?"

"Me conscience is spotless," Gene told her but her raised eyebrow told a different story.

"I seem to remember you telling us about a married woman back in Manchester while we were playing truth or dare at Christmas," she said quietly.

Gene looked down and felt a little guilty suddenly. In truth, he'd hoped everyone had been too drink at the time to remember his confession. It wasn't exactly something he was proud of. He nodded slowly.

"Alright, Bols, I get your point," he said quietly.

Alex could see she'd touched a nerve and tried to get back to the subject at hand. That was all in the past, way before their time and she could see how much he regretted his indiscretion. She looked at him seriously.

"Simon regretted it right away and he's spent his time since then trying to make up for it. He was too shamed to admit what he'd done so he transferred to Fenchurch West, so that Keats was out of our hair and so that we would never have to know the truth.

Gene closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"He should have come to us," he said quietly, "should have come to _me."_

"He's ashamed, Gene," she told him sadly, "he's so ashamed of what he's done. He couldn't face _you,_ especially."

"I might have thrown him against the filing cabinet but then I'm sure I'd have –"

"No, he wasn't afraid of you doing that," Alex shook her head, "he's…" she closed her eyes, remembering the conversation she'd had with Simon on Christmas Day. She knew Simon had a crush on Gene and that the thought of Gene knowing about what he and Keats had done was just about tearing Simon up. "He's fond of you," she said quietly, "he… looks up to you. A lot. And he feels he's let you down."

Gene closed his eyes. He didn't commit to whether Simon had let him down or not. He wasn't even sure himself. He breathed in deeply and nodded slowly.

"Right," he began in measured tones, "I'll speak to him."

"Please be tactful," Alex begged, "he's already torturing himself over this."

"I just want to talk to him," said Gene, "show him he'll achieve nothing by letting Keats drag him to the other side. Tell him to come back."

"He won't, Gene, he's really low," Alex sighed, "he thinks he deserves to be treated this way by Keats because of his mistake."

Gene got to his feet.

"Then I'll just have to tell him differently," he said.

Alex felt a little anxious as she watched him leave. She'd never seen Simon so low and with Gene's idea of tact she wasn't sure he was going to get anywhere. But just maybe Simon would listen to him. And if not, she supposed, a couple of rounds with the filing cabinet just might do the trick.


	28. Chapter 27: Castles in the Air

**Chapter 27**

Feeling like his world was ending all over again, Simon slouched home. Now that Alex had found out his dirty little secret in the most graphic of ways he knew Gene would soon be let into the truth too. _Great_. That was going to be a conversation to forward to.

As he got to the door of his flat and found it open he realised with a cringe that he'd left Keats alone in his home. _Shit._ That wasn't the cleverest thing he'd ever done. He hesitated outside of the door, unsure what he was going to find when he went inside. He could find a naked Keats waiting in his bed. He could find the walls doused in petrol. Quite frankly, the petrol was sounding like the most appealing option to Simon.

He cautiously opened the door and peered inside. He couldn't seem to see anything amiss. He tiptoed through the lounge, looking for any sign that he'd been there but everything was strangely untouched. Maybe Keats had simply left? No, that was too easy. There had to be something, somewhere.

The naked Keats idea was sounding like a possibility so with an anxious gulp Simon peered into his bedroom but luckily found his bed Keats-free. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked further into the room, looking around. Something seemed a little off but he wasn't sure what. It wasn't for several moments that he realised Keats had found the green food colouring he and Kim had used during one very unsuccessful attempt to bake a cake and had used it to give one of his guinea pigs a tinted Mohawk.

"_Argh!"_ he cried in horror, "Punk guinea pigs!"

He couldn't understand it. That didn't seem like a very Keats thing to do, but then he supposed Keats was happy to do _anything_ to piss him off. He looked around and saw a note beside the bed. He read it anxiously.

"_Simon, grew bored of waiting so I dealt with it myself. You might want to wash your sheets. K."_

"Oh – _eugh!"_ Simon jumped back in horror, not quite bearing to look at the evidence. Before he even had a chance to contemplate what to do he saw a pile of glass shards on the floor with pieces of wood and a ripped photograph amongst them. Simon bent down over it, his heart breaking as he saw the one small photograph he had of Robin from his short time in 1995 had been ripped to pieces. "Oh _no,"_ Simon's words were laden with sheer emotion. That was all he had… it was all he had left. How could that monster have done it?

He felt himself getting angry now. Keats's behaviour was just becoming worse and Simon wasn't sure how to deal with his fury. He marched out of the bedroom and towards the front door, on a mission to head out and find Keats to show him exactly what he thought of his photo-ripping gesture but before he had a chance a hand shot through the open door, gripped him by the neck and slammed him against the wall.

"Just because you haven't got any filing cabinets here doesn't mean you're getting off scot free," Gene's angry voice yelled in his face.

Simon tried to gulp bit with the hand over his throat it was impossible.

"She's told you," he gasped, "hasn't she?"

"Told me? About your little lollypop-licking session?" Gene cried, "Oh yes, she's told me."

"I'm sorry," was the only thing Simon cold say, "I'm really sorry, Gene, you have no idea how much so."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be by the time I've finished with you,"Gene let go of Simon's throat and held him to the wall by his lapels instead. "Not only are you stupid enough to let Jimbo fix you with his bloody spinny hypno-eyes but you're stupid enough to try to hide it from me!"

"How could I _tell_ you?" cried Simon, "there was no way… I didn't want to hurt you…"

"You thought you could keep it under wraps forever?"

Simon swallowed.

"I was doing my best."

"Shame you didn't try to make Keats keep his joystick under wraps too!" cried Gene.

Simon stared at Gene, the hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. This was exactly the reason he'd tried so hard to cover up the terrible mistake he'd made, the one he regretted so much. He didn't want to see that look.

"If I thought there was anything I could say to make this better then I'd say it," he said weakly, "but there's not. I was weak and I was stupid. I made the worst mistake of my life. All I can do now is to try to make it up to you, by staying out of your way and keeping Keats at bay too."

Gene's grip on Simon began to loosen a little.

"Simon, what good do you think you're doing handing yerself to Keats on a plate?" he sighed, "you've already made one mistake – now Keats is going to bring a hundred more mistakes to yer life. You want to end up like Kim?"

Simon hesitated.

"Pierced?"

"Banging the devil in every possible place, leaving suspicious stains on me backseat!" cried Gene. He finally let go of Simon and began to pace, trying to work off some of his anger. "You're better than this, Shoebury. You _know_ that. You made a mistake – fine. Be a man and own up to it." He saw Simon look down in shame. "Now you've made your bed you've got to lie in it."

"I'm not lying in _that_ bed," Simon panicked, "not after what Keats has done to it!"

Gene looked confused but decided he was better off not knowing what he was talking about.

"You've dug a pretty deep hole for yerself, Simon," he said, "but there's always a way out. Sooner or later some soft sod's going to hand you a ladder."

Simon shook his head.

"I don't deserve a ladder," he said, "only one with broken rungs."

"Stop the self pity and listen to me," Gene told him crossly, "you've got yer feet under the table now. Use it to your advantage," he paused, "To _our_ advantage."

Simon stared at him. "W-what do you mean?" he asked.

"Make yourself useful," Gene told him, "help us knock Keats off his perch."

Simon closed his eyes and sighed sadly.

"There's not much I can do," he said, "he's bloody demoted me, he's treating me like his bloody pet."

"Find evidence," Gene urged him, "you remember the plan, Shoebury. We knocked it on the head to stop Alex from getting more stressed but thanks to the peep show she witnessed here an hour ago I think her blood pressure's already through the roof so we might as well try again."

Simon hung his head.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be bloody sorry, go and nail the bastard," Gene told him, "you're right there in Fenchurch West. Find something we can get him on. Some official protocol he ignores. Some kind of work practice he turns a blind eye to. You're right there, Simon. You're in the best place to do this."

"He leaves me in the basement all day!" cried Simon, "There's nothing I can do from there."

"Use yer bloody initiative!" Gene grabbed for his collar again, "flush this self-pity down the bog, put the jumper back on if it helps for all I bloody care! Just get yerself together, get rid of the _woe-is-me_ look and get yer arse to Fenchurch West to find something we can really get him on."

"Gene, I don't even know where to start," Simon cried.

"Files, tapes – he's got evidence coming out of every crack," said Gene. He flinched. "You probably know all about his cracks by now though."

Simon looked horrified.

"_Gene!"_ he cried.

Gene ignored his protests.

"You've made a mistake," he began crossly, "and we both know that this is the biggest bloody mistake _anyone_ can make. Now are you going to keep making mistakes or are you going to get yer arse back to Fenchurch East with a wad of evidence so we can finally take his power away?" he stared at Simon, watched him thinking his words over. "Remember, Shoebury, today it's you. Who's to say who it'll be tomorrow? The next _Simon_, the next _Kim_, the next _whoever_ that can't look away when he tries 'is bloody hypno-stare on them." He paused. "How bad do you feel, Simon? Right now?"

Simon looked down.

"Could slit my wrists right now and it wouldn't be enough," he said.

Gene nodded.

"You want Keats to keep making people feel that way? Over and over, time after time? Or will you put an end to it?" he let go of Simon's collar and began to walk towards the door. "Think about it Shoebury. And think _very_ carefully. Because this might be the last chance we have to get that fork-tailed twat out of his throne."

Simon watched him leave, his heart pounding with anxiety. He understood what Gene had said and he knew that he was right, but he felt so low and so trapped that he wasn't sure he had the strength to do what Gene was asking. He needed to scrape himself off the floor and to get back some self-respect, because Keats had slowly taken it away from him piece by piece.

Maybe he could do it. Maybe held succeed, or maybe he'd fail. But either way he started to realise he would have to try. It was time for Keats's rein to come to an end, one way or another.


	29. Chapter 28: Tell Him

**Chapter 28**

Alex looked up a little anxiously as Gene came back into his office. She'd been anxious for him to return, not only because she was concerned about how his talk with Simon would go but also because her head was feeling strange and floaty, and fragments of voices had been plaguing her.

_"Finally getting some answers for you, Alex,"_ she heard at one point,_ "I think the scans have told us all we need to know."_

That sent a shiver through her spine. She was so glad to see Gene that she almost jumped to her feet in relief but she decided it was safer to stay in her chair and avoid passing out again.

"Did you see him?" she asked.

Gene nodded as he slipped his flask from his pocket.

"I saw 'im," he said.

Alex hesitated.

"Is he still in one piece?" she asked eventually.

Gene took a swig from his flask and nodded.

"For now," he said.

Alex bit her lip.

"What did you say to him?" she asked quietly.

Gene sat down and studied his flask like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

"I let the wall do the talking to start with," he mumbled.

Alex looked at him a little anxiously.

"Oh _Gene_, what did you do?" she asked.

"Don't look at me like that!" said Gene, "I was quite civilised actually," he took another sip, "…for me."

She took a deep breath. There didn't seem to be any blood on Gene's clothes so she guessed Simon was still alive at least.

"How did it go?" she asked a little reluctantly, "did he listen to you?"

Gene wasn't really sure. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Well, he's not back at his desk," he said.

Alec nodded slowly.

"Didn't think he would be," she said.

"He's knee deep in self-pity," Gene told her, "wallowing in ten tons of Jimbo-related shit. Thinks he deserves it too."

Alex tried to read Gene's expression.

"And what do _you_ think?" she asked.

Gene stared at his hands around the flask. He wasn't sure himself. He felt a strong degree of anger about what Simon had done – he knew Simon wasn't blameless and his weakness had led him into the situation in the first place. But he'd also seen Keats sink his claws into people stronger than Simon and was desperate not to let him get dragged down any deeper. Plus, he was in territory that made him feel extremely bloody uncomfortable.

"I think," he began, "that Shoebury has made the biggest bloody mistake of his life. And if we don't stop him before he reaches forthe self-destruct button it could be the end of him." He swigged from his flask one last tme and screwed the cap back on. "I told him to help us. To dig up dirt on Jimbo. Find something we can use to strip him of his title."

"What did he say?" Alex asked nervously.

Gene sighed.

"I think he needs time to wake up from Twat-ville and realise he needs to shape up and help _himself_ by helping _us_," he said, "I don't know if me words did any good. We'll give him a day and if not," he paused.

"What?"

"I'll order a fling cabinet and have it delivered to his flat for the encore," said Gene

~xXx~

By the time Simon finally arrived at Fenchurch West his blood was boiling. His anger had been building and building and by the time he paced through CID towards Keats he could hardly control himself. In a move that was very unlike him he grabbed Keats by the shoulder, pulled him away from the conversation he was having and knocked him against the wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" he cried.

For a moment Keats looked a little anxious but that soon faded into a smug smile.

"Something the matter, Simon?" he asked amiably, "not like you to be so tardy."

"Well chalk my lateness up to the fact that I've been scrubbing my guinea pigs for the last hour!" Simon yelled, "amongst other things."

Keats glanced around. He wasn't sure he wanted the rest of CID to witness whatever Simon was going to say, so he hustled him into his office and shut the door.

"Well you left me high and dry," he told Simon as he closed the blinds, "if you weren't going to help me out then I had to help myself! You can send me the laundry bill."

"I don't give a fuck what you did to my sheets," Simon hissed, backing him against the wall, "why the fuck did you wreck my picture?" his eyes were flashing with a fury Keats had never seen in him before. "That was my only picture of Robin," he cried, "it was all I had left."

"Oh _boo hoo,"_ Keats rubbed his eyes like a baby crying, "poor Simon., Haven't you got the message yet? Robin's not here, in case it escaped your notice. Just because you're in the nineties doesn't mean you need to keep living in the past!"

Simon gripped him by the collar. He was losing control now. He could understand why Gene always seemed to end up throwing someone against the filing cabinet. It was looking like a very tempting option.

"What right do you have?" he cried, "that was _my_ photograph. There was no fucking need for that! What's your problem?"

"My _problem_," Keats ripped Simon's hands from his shirt and pushed him against the door, "is that I've got a new DI who doesn't seem to know his place."

"DCI," cried Simon, "I'm a bloody DCI!"

"We both know that's not true any more," Keats smirked. "Didn't need another DCI around here anyway, Simon. This station ain't big enough for the both of us."

"Don't paraphrase Sparks," Simon yelled but found Keats's elbow up against his neck.

"You get this cut up over a bloody photograph?" Keats spat, "fucking hell, someone's got anger issues. You really are turning into a mini-Hunt, aren't you?"

"Why are you so bloody obsessed with destroying everything I have connected to Robin?" Simon cried, the elbow in his throat making it harder to talk.

"Oh, _I'm_ obsessed, am I?" cried Keats, "so it's not _you_ who mopes around, supping from a bottle like a baby at the breast?" he had a sneering smile on his face. "You came here as a clean-cut, clean shaven, tee-total DCI, Simon. All prim and proper. A right little prefect. What happened to you, hmm?" He shook his head as his smile sent shudders of horror through Simon's spine. "You came here wiping Robin's nose and tucking him into bed, but look how you both turned out." Simon stared at him, waiting for him to continue; the fact that Keats had seen Robin recently, back at home, back in 2011, chilled him to the core. "He's better off out there without you, Simon. Turned into a right little hero. Photos in glossy magazines. All over the news chasing the bad guys left, right and centre. And what happened to _you_?" he leaned closer, "rotting in the basement, bending over when I snap my fingers, half-pickled just like Hunt."

Simon swallowed. It wasn't the first time Keats had used Robin's new-found strength to wind Simon up but it was the first time that Simon saw something else behind it. He swallowed.

"Why are you so bitter about it?" he whispered.

Keats seemed to freeze.

"What?"

Simon took a deep breath.

"If Robin's doing well," he whispered, "he deserves it. Why are you so obsessed?"

"I'm not the obsessed one, Simon," Keats gave a slightly strained laugh and his elbow loosened against Simon's neck, "who was it that came screaming to me after their little _nightmare_ the other morning?" he raised an eyebrow. "_Oh woe is me, Robin's on the turn."_

"You're the one who's always going on about this," Simon hissed, "what is it? Is it because Robin was the only one who resisted temptation? Didn't bite when you offered a route home?" he tried hard to hold his nerve, "is that it, Keats? He's the only one who didn't go running around behind Gene's back for you." He felt a stab of guilt as he remembered how he too had been taken in by Keats on his first time in Gene's world. "Is that it? You're getting obsessed with him because he was the one who didn't fall under your spell."

"You have no clue what you're talking about," Keats hissed, "in fact, the more I hear from you the less you seem to know about the _love of your life."_

"And what do _you_ know?" Simon cried, "Eh? You somehow get a free pass to the future, see his picture in a magazine and now you're the expert?"

Keats stared Simon in the eye. His sneer faded and something far darker overtook it.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg, Simon," he spat, "there's so much more. Things you couldn't handle." He watched Simon swallow hard as he ran a finger down his face, not with the sexual intent that he usually aimed at others but with a malevolence that hit new depths even for Keats, "You getting all bent up over a torn photograph? All you had to remember him by?" he gave a mocking laugh. "Do me a favour. There's a fucking big reminder right here."

"There's _nothing_," Simon whispered, his heart aching as once again a sense of loss gnawed at him"

"It's staring you right in the face," Keats hissed. His eyes bore right into Simon's and turned him cold from head to toe. Simon waited for him to go on, sure there was more to the matter, but quite suddenly Keats stepped away and turned his back to him. "But I'm bored with this now, Simon. I have more important things to do than give you grief counselling." He pushed Simon aside and opened the door. "About Victoria," he began, "I want to see her on your arm tonight. Don't fucking let me down again."

As he stepped out of the office and slammed the door so hard Simon's teeth practically rattled, Simon had a terrible sinking feeling inside. Just when he thought his situation was as dark as it could possibly be now Keats's sudden obsession with Robin seemed to have plunged to new depths. He didn't know why or what the hell Keats was talking about but he knew the madman had to be stopped one way or another. He thought of Gene's plea as he sank to the floor. Getting Keats's title stripped away from him and taking away his power really could be the only way to defeat him. He took a deep breath as he tried to formulate a plan, a way to deliver what Gene needed.

He nodded to confirm to himself that his decision was made. He was going to find whatever he could on Keats and get that title taken away. And, with any luck, he wouldn't have to do it alone. He got to his feet and opened the door slowly, a red-haired woman catching his eye. He wasn't the only one who hated Keats with an absolute passion. There would always be an ally, if he looked hard enough.

He just had to hope she'd listen to him this time.


	30. Chapter 29: You Learn

**Chapter 29**

Simon wished that he had a flask like Gene's. He could understand now the necessity of the thing because as he watched Victoria's angry face staring at the papers in front of her he really felt like some Dutch courage would be just the thing to help him approach her again. The more he thought about it, the more sensible Gene's long-running approach to dealing with life's issues seemed to be. He decided to invest in one as soon as the ordeal was over, but for now he had a job to do.

He could already see Victoria rolling her eyes as he approached her and knew this wasn't going to be the easiest task in the world but he had to do it. He needed to break free from Keats's grasp and he owed this to Gene and Alex. He drew in his breath and marched towards her, aware that prying eyes were watching from the far and of the room the fake, sickly smile he put on nauseated even Simon as he slowly leaned down to Victoria's level, propped himself against the desk and said,

"Hello again."

Victoria looked up at him and sighed.

"I warned you yesterday to leave me out of four-eyes's plans," she said.

Simon looked her right in the eye and his fake smile faltered. There was a dark seriousness on his face that made Victoria stop for a moment.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll play along," he hissed in slow, measured tones, "and if you ever want that bespectacled piece of crap out of this place then smile and listen," he saw her expression change in shock. She'd been expecting more of the same from the day before. Suddenly Simon seemed like a very different man.

"You came in on the arm of DCI Devil Face," she said quietly, "why should I trust you?"

Simon hesitated and flinched a little as he discretely moved his collar and tie to show some of the red marks Keats had left.

"That's why," he said quietly, "If I'm the 'special one; and I'm treated this way then what does that say about him?" he was aware of Keats's eyes upon him and turned up the false smile. "Now, if you want him dealt with for good just smile and nod like you're really interested in what I have to say, alright?" He watched as Victoria half-attempted a smile and gave a nod.

"OK," she said.

Simon drew in his breath and turned a little to make sure Keats could see his smile, just praying he'd buy that Victoria's responses were genuine.

"After work I'll come and pick you up," He said, "we'll go for coffee and I'll explain everything."

"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself," Victoria's fake smile gave her voice a sing-song quality that almost made Simon laugh. He just about managed to compose himself.

"It looks better that way," Simon told her, the grin fixed upon his face, "if Keats sees us leaving together he'll be off both our backs."

"It sounds like it's not your back you need to be worried about," Victoria smiled, "it sounds like he's more interested in your –"

"Yes, I am aware of that," Simon's smile grew strained, "I'll let you get on with your work and be back to pick you up later."

Victoria gave one last fake smile.

"However will I wait all day to find out what you have in store?" her sarcasm managed to put Simon's back up instantly and he wasn't sure he was going to get through their meeting that evening without either killing her or killing himself.

~xXx~

Somehow Simon managed to get through the day, another day down in the basement. He was aware that some changes had taken place since the day before; the temperature was several degrees higher and he found himself feeling somewhat faint and under the weather. The moment Keats offered him a glass of water he began to panic, recalling what had happened with other 'pet projects' he'd adopted in the past. Subsequent glasses of water that appeared in the basement were donated to pot plants around the station and Simon managed to make it to the end of the day more or less unscathed.

As promised he arrived un CID to pick up Victoria. He couldn't see her at first and panicked that she had avoided him but a moment later he saw her moving quickly through the office with an arm full of files. He breathed a sigh of relief, adopted his fake smile and crossed to her.

"Are you ready?" he asked. He caught a glimpse of Keats watching out of the window of his office and made a big show of extending his hand to Victoria. With enormous reluctance, she accepted it.

"I'm disinfecting my hand as soon as we're out the door," she said, "I know what your fingers have been wrapped around recently."

Simon wished desperately that Victoria would leave well alone that particular subject but in the interests of keeping up the illusion he held his tongue.

They walked out of CID and left the building but Simon found Victoria walking in a different direction.

"Where are you going?" he cried "my car's this way!"

"Not travelling in your car," Victoria said, "I don't know what you and Devil Boy have been doing in the back seat."

"You'd be sitting in the front," Simon mumbled but he decided it was better just to go along with her request and let her drive him. Anything to keep the peace. He knew he was treading on very thin ice already.

He climbed into the passenger side of her car and pulled across the seatbelt. It was a warm day and the inside of the car was hot and stuffy. He glanced at Victoria as she climbed into the driver's side and started the car.

"So where are we having this glorious cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Latte Land," Simon said quietly.

Victoria glanced at him,

"Not going there, that's the haunt of the Fenchurch East mob," she said.

"Uh, _hello?"_ Simon pointed to himself.

"You're _ex_-East," she told him.

"Bollocks to that, that's where we're going," said Simon.

"You want me to come or not?"

"Listen," Simon began crossly as she started to pull out of the car park, "if we go somewhere that your lot are drinking their post-work caffeine fix and they overhear what we're talking about then the whole thing's over before it's even begun. Latte Land is safer territory."

Victoria gave a sigh of frustration but reluctantly agreed and turned the car around to head in the direction of Simon's chosen café. They drove in silence for the most part but as they stopped at a red light and Victoria's eyes moved to Simon for a moment she had the strangest sense of deja vu. She couldn't explain it. It was as though there was something deeply rooted there, that they'd been in that situation before. Something to do with driving along with Simon beside her made her feel as though she'd been there before. She realised that Simon was staring back, uncomfortably.

"I know you don't like me but there's no need to stare," he said.

Victoria hesitated.

"Have we met before?" she asked, "I don't mean at Fenchurch West."

Simon sighed and shrugged.

"Not that I can think of," he said.

Victoria swallowed and turned her attention back to the road. She couldn't shake that strange feeling. The familiarity… it was there, lurking in the background. There was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she supposed this wasn't the time to find out. It was a time to focus on Simon's so-called plans. She didn't hold out much hope for them – nothing yet had managed to get Keats removed from his perch, but she supposed it was at least worth hearing him out.

~xXx~

"Do out think we should go and talk to Simon?" Alex asked a little anxiously as she kicked off her shoes and sank into the couch. She rubbed her toes and leaned back. She was well aware that her leave wasn't going according to plan, through no one else's fault but her own. Following Gene to work, staying there all day – just because she wasn't doing work of her own didn't mean that she was 'resting'.

"Nah," Gene shook his head, "the boy needs time to think about things. Give him a day or so for the truth to sink into his head, then see if he needs another go against the filing cabinet." Gene tried to stay calm and cool in front of Alex but inside he felt anxious. He'd never thought Simon would betray them in the way he already had – now he desperately hoped that Simon would come good and know what he had to do to make amends. He lurked at the kitchen door. "Now," he began, "food."

Alex stared at him, expecting him to go on. When he didn't, she frowned.

"Word association games are not my favourites," she said.

"No, you prefer strip poker, I know," Gene teased her, "but for now it's _Guess What's In The Fridge _time."

Alex sighed and closed her eyes.

"Whatever's in the fridge I hope there's a lot of it," she said, her hand resting against her stomach, "I'm absolutely starving."

Gene almost smiled at that. That was what he wanted to hear. Alex needed to eat more and rest more, and of one out of two was as good as it got then it was an improvement. Even though she was starting to develop a rounded stomach where the pregnancy was changing her body he was worried about the rest of her where the sickness and the lack of appetite had taken their toll. Parts of her were looking far too bony.

"The Gene Genie will take care of tonight's feat of culinary excellence," he said as he disappeared.

"Oh, not more fishy biscuits and dolphin-nosed potatoes," Alex groaned, "I never managed to recover from that. I break into a cold sweat every time I see a dolphin on the telly."

She leaned back a little more comfortably and ran her hand back and forth across her stomach. It felt a little strange; jittery almost. At first she'd thought it was anxiety after Simon's 'mistake' had been discovered. Then she thought she was getting hunger pangs, but it seemed a little too low for that, It wasn't until she lay back and had a moment to think about it that she realised the source of the feeling; the very earliest little movements from her baby. It shocked her when she realised what it was and her eyes opened wide. They were too light and gentle to be felt from the outside but she was very definite about what she was feeling. She remembered that sensation well from expecting Molly.

All of a sudden everything became so much more real. Tangible, Solid. Their baby was making its presence known very clearly and needed her to be strong.

Alex was going to do all she could to hold onto her life in Gene's world, whatever it took.

~xXx~

Simon felt the table shake as Victoria thrust a mug in front of him and he saw a very cold face staring at him as she sat down.

"So, are you Keats's bum-boy or not?" she asked bluntly.

Simon closed his eyes and felt violently sick as he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. Did he really have to go into that? He supposed if he wanted her on board he didn't really have a choice.

With a very deep sigh he hung his head.

"I made one mistake," he said quietly, "one very big mistake but a mistake none the less. I just did something hundreds and thousands of people every week. I got drunk and had a one night stand." He shook his head. "Well, any normal person would have left it as a one night stand, but Keats isn't normal." He exhaled loudly. "And now he's taking advantage of me every moment that he can."

"You knew what you were dealing with," Victoria told him.

"I know, I know," Simon wished that he could at least plead ignorance bit he couldn't, "DI Stone, if I could go back in time I would. But I was low. I was at my very lowest point. My best friend had gone –" he hesitated, "had died, I've been separated from my partner for eight… almost nine months now… I was feeling desperate and lonely and somehow he always knows when someone is in that position."

Victoria stirred some sugar into her coffee. She took a very long time over it and clanked the spoon noisily against the side of the cup as though to focus her attention on anything other than the situation at hand. Finally she stared at him.

"So what exactly is your master plan?" she asked.

Simon drew in a deep breath.

"Fenchurch East has a plan," he said quietly, "we need to find anything we can on Keats… official stuff. Protocols and procedures… anything to do with his work practices that could see him demoted."

Victoria spluttered with laughter.

"That's not going to happen," she mocked, "he could behead his entire department and they'll probably give him a knighthood."

"This is the only shot we have," Simon hissed, "Keats used to work for D and C, he tried to trap people by the book – it's time the tables were turned on him."

Victoria stared at Simon.

"And what part do I play in all of this." She asked.

Simon bit his lip.

"You know that station far better than I do," he said, "is there anything you can give me? Any guidance where I should be looking? Any files… cases… anything I need to watch out for?"

Victoria studied him seriously. She sipped her coffee and leaned back.

"I was already trying to help your station," she said quietly, "your super wanted me to deal with a joint investigating. That was another great plan. You know what that got me?" Simon shook his head and Victoria rolled up her sleeve, a collection of different coloured bruises on display from Keats's angry grab when he discovered her getting on rather too well with Nick Nailer. It made Simon sick to see it. "That's what I got for my troubles," she said, "I'm staying well away."

"God, Victoria –" Simon began as she got to her feet.

"That's DI Stone to you," she said.

Simon closed his eyes for a moment.

"DI Stone," he said, "I'm sorry… and I'm so sorry about what Keats has done to you… but you really want him to carry on doing it, over and over again? To you? To others?" he stared her right in the eye. "I'm not asking for much from you. No one will ever know you're where the information comes from. Hand me a file, point me in the right direction, leave me an anonymous note – be as far out of the picture as you like but please, _please_ think this over?" he paused as he watched her expression changing, It was unreadable; a mix of anxiety and contemplation but he knew it could go either way. "Please, just think about it."

Victoria stared at him. She blinked and tried to work out what to say. Eventually she took a deep breath and picked up her coat.

"Good luck, Simon," she said quietly, "I hope your plan works out. But I value my life."

Simon swallowed and found himself lost for words as he watched her go. He really thought he was getting somewhere. It seemed not. Maybe she needed more time, he thought to himself. He knew he was asking for something that scared her witless. He hoped that she would at least think it over because he didn't see how he was ever going to find everything they needed by himself – and this time he really didn't want to let Gene down.


	31. Chapter 30: Hanging Around

**Chapter 30**

"What's wrong with you, Bols, you've been rubbing yer belly all night."

Alex had thought she'd gotten away with it. She felt a little self-conscious now Gene had brought it up.

"Sorry," she said, "I thought I felt movement for the first time earlier."

Gene climbed into bed.

"Wind?"

"Ew, _no!"_ Alex recoiled a little and pulled the duvet around her shoulders, just in case Gene's suggestion was based upon his own current urges, "there's no poetry in your soul, is there?"

"I resent that suggestion," Gene told her, "I was perfectly happy to write you that poem for valentine's day."

Alex frowned.

"You mean the limerick?" she asked, "the one that began, _"There once was a DCI whose cleavage was six foot high"?"_

"Don't know how you can complain about that!" Gene commented, "thought you came out of it sounding pretty good!"

Alex ignored him and settled down for a good night's sleep.

~xXx~

The night was peaceful and dreamless until the early hours of the morning when quite suddenly Alex's sleep was filled with voices breaking through from another time, another place, another body. As she heard them speaking of her so starlight filled the ceiling and worlds brushed so close together.

"…_As you know her last set of brain scans and tests were quite promising. They showed some degree of brain function returning."_

The voice was authoritative and serious. She couldn't see the man behind the voice… there were no images, only speech… but she could almost feel the hospital room around her.

She desperately wanted to shed the bleedthrough; to pull herself back but it was so hard.

_"Well, repeating the tests has shown that there's been further improvements,"_ the voice continued, _"in fact, we are looking at the possibility of running down the medications to see if she will be able to regain consciousness."_

Those final words echoed through her head, again and again as though someone had yelled them into a cave and listened to see how many times they would come floating back. They circled her, tortured her, shook her up inside and just as they reached fever pitch she awoke with a start, sweating and shaking.

She sat up and quickly turned around. Gene was there beside her, snoring lightly. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her rapid breathing.

"_It was just a dream… only a dream…"_ she told herself again and again but there was no shaking the feeling that it was more than that. She knew by now the difference between a dream and a glimpse into the other world.

She swallowed as she watched Gene sleeping beside her. She reached out to touch him, laid a hand on his shoulder and vowed silently not to let anything take her back to the other side of the line. She wasn't going to let that happen. It didn't matter what brain scans or tests said, there was no Alex Drake in 2011 any more. Her life and her home were securely rooted in 1996.

~xXx~

The starlight was beautiful. Keats beamed as he witnessed it passing across the sky when morning had already broken and daylight should have been ruling the day. He knew why.

"Take away the walls and the roof caves in," he gloated blissfully as he sat at his desk, watching the bustle of CID going about their business. Taking Simon from Fenchurch East had been most satisfying in more ways than one. Not only did he finally have his _one that got away_ but now he could stand back and watch Fenchurch East crumble. He wasn't sure quite how bad things would get or what was going to happen but just seeing things start to fall apart gave him a warm feeling inside.

He watched Simon through the window. What was he doing out of his basement anyway? Oh well, it didn't really matter that much. He was nice enough to look at so he might as well just enjoy it. Sexuality really didn't figure for Keats at all. He didn't label himself and had no issues with anyone knowing what he'd been doing with Simon. No, he'd never been with a man before but it was all just sex to him. He still wasn't sold on the idea of a goat but would never say never.

He got to his feet and walked slowly to the door. Watching Simon again he started to think about the effect taking him out of his home station was having. He'd known it might have a slight weakening effect on Fenchurch East but he had no idea it would do anything this severe. It seemed somewhat strange to Keats. He understood that when he'd poached _Alex_ things were bound to fall apart – she'd been there fifteen years. But Simon had only really been there months. What made him so special?

He watched him carefully. There always had been something about Simon. Why was he predisposed to taking on that role? To become a DCI straight away on his return to the world, that was just about unheard of. Even with having been there before, it shouldn't have been enough. After all, Simon was only there for days the first time around.

"What made you the golden boy, hmm?" he muttered to himself, his eyes fixed upon him the whole time, "what made you the chosen one?"

Whatever it was, Simon was_ Keats's_ 'chosen one' now. And while Fenchurch East was crumbling he decided he might was well go and see if he could pick up any bargains in the end of season sales. With stars in the sky and Gene and Alex without their third wheel it was time to see if he could hoover up any of the pieces before the station disintegrated permanently. He knew most of CID weren't up to much – no way he'd touch people like Bammo with a fifty foot pole - but there had to be one or two others he could hoover up as the world crumbled.

He pulled on his coat and marched from the office. It was time to go shopping.

~xXx~

Lindsay hadn't been happy from the moment Simon left. They'd gotten on well together and had shared many a drunken night at _Bask_, usually with Eddie in tow. In fact, Simon had thought there was a little spark between then sometimes but nothing had really come of it, mostly because Eddie was still convinced he was dreaming and spent most nights trying to imagine Lindsay's clothing off instead of asking her out and having a chance of taking it off for real.

When Simon left, Vickery was appointed acting head of Hi-Tech Crimes, which would have been fine if Vickery wasn't such a pathetic, whimpering, brain-dead coward. Alright, so that was a little unfair, but unlike most people who arrived in the world knowing that they were in a strange place he'd never once stepped up to the plate. He hasn't even tried to challenge it or find a way home. He usually spent his days hiding in the toilets.

Which meant Lindsay was more or less doing the work of three people, despite only being a detective constable herself. Her usually cheery and bubbly personality had been replaced by frowns and sighs. She didn't want to complain but she was finding it increasingly difficult to just carry on.

She felt the shadow fall upon her before she saw it. It gave her a shudder down her spine. Turning slowly around she found a man in spectacles standing in the doorway, a smug smile upon his face and a coat wrapping around him like seaweed swirling in the ocean.

"Good morning, Miss," he said.

Lindsay clutched her file to her chest. Something felt wrong. Something had startled her about him.

"Can… can I help you?" she asked.

The man pulled out his ID and showed her.

"DCI Jim Keats," he smiled, "Fenchurch West CID."

Lindsay swallowed.

"Oh," she said quietly. Yeah, she knew _that_ name. She knew the reputation attached to it as well. She might not have known any of the details but she knew enough to want him to leave.

"You're looking a bit stressed, miss…?"

Lindsay took a step backward.

"Detective Constable Peters," she said.

"Well, DC Peters," Keats slowly waked towards her, "you look like you're missing your DCI."

Lindsay swallowed.

"We're managing," she said quietly.

"Doesn't look like it," said Keats, "big office for one little constable. All these papers…" he ran his fingers down a pile of paperwork she hadn't get managed to get round to organising yet, "overworked and underpaid, eh?" he edged towards her. He'd heard good things about Lindsay – both on a work and social front. At work she was efficient and enthusiastic, while out on the town she could hold her drink and dance like a pro.

"You can see I'm busy," she said, her voice wobbling a little, "so why don't you let me get on with my work?"

"I have a proposition for you," Keats began but a voice from the corridor cut him off.

"Unless yer proposition involves letting Detective Constable Peters chop off yer knob and feed it to the fish I think you need to bugger off."

Keats closed his eyes before turning around very slowly.

"Morning, Gene," he said. Somehow he thought Gene wasn't going to be there. He'd heard that Alex's health had been failing and knew she was on leave. Somehow he just assumed that Gene would be there with her. So much for running around the sweet shop when the doors had been locked for the night.

"Don't believe you have permission to be here," said Gene, "you seem to be in the wrong station."

Keats looked around, making a big show of staring at the ceiling.

"Maybe you're right," he said, "wouldn't want to be standing around when the roof caves in." he aimed a very smug smile on Gene's direction, "then again, what could be better than the sight of stars twinkling in the sky?"

"Out, Jimbo."

Keats tried to stare Gene down. That was a round he was never going to win, so with a sigh he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card which he placed quite forcefully down on front of Lindsay.

"In case you fancy a change of scenery," he said, then turned and walked slowly out of the door, hesitating to turn and aim one last smug smile in her direction, "before the scenery falls down around you."

Gene started after Keats as he left, making sure he didn't stop and turn around. When he was out of sight he glanced at the nervous-looking Lindsay.

"You alright, Red?" he asked.

Lindsay nodded and swallowed.

"Fine," she said quietly, "didn't like the look of him, that's all."

"I don't like the look of him, the sound of him or the smell of him," Gene told her, "so any time you see him around here again, security are yer best friends, OK?"

Lindsay nodded, still shaking a little.

"OK," she said quietly.

Gene aimed a nod in her direction, then walked with haste to his own office. He arrived in time to watch Keats walking demurely through the car park, turning to give Gene a wave as though he'd known he was there. His blood started to boil. There was taking the piss, and then there was Jimbo. Gene wasn't going to stand for any more of that shit.

He grabbed his phone and dialled a familiar number, yet one he rarely dialled himself. No one ever calls their home number, right? He tried to calm himself a little, trying to avoid worrying Alex by sounding wound up. That was the last thing she'd need – but she did deserve to be warned.

"_Hello?"_

"Bolly," Gene exhaled. Just hearing her voice calmed his temper by several degrees. He took a deep breath, "sorry to get yer all riled up with the sound of me dulcet tones when I'm not there for you to jump on me –"

"_That's OK, I've got a free hand,"_ Alex replied so nonchalantly that it threw Gene for a moment and he wasn't sure whether she was being serious or not. Eventually he cleared his throat, regained his composure and began,

"Uh … maybe you can give me a demonstration of that tonight?"

"_If you're lucky."_

Gene felt himself flushing now. This wasn't quite the way the call was supposed to go. He cleared his throat again and said,

"In the meanwhile, word of warning for you. I want you to stay well away from here today."

"_I'm already doing that,"_ sighed Alex, "_you've got me imprisoned by Richard and Judy, and I can't move more than six feet from the toilet this morning. What else are you going to do to keep me away? Set the dogs on me?"_

"I'm serious, Bols," Gene's tone became far darker, "we've had a rat in here this morning. Rats carry nasty diseases."

"_A rat?"_ Alex repeated.

"In glasses and a trenchcoat," Gene explained. "Think he was trying to poach Lindsay Peters."

"_Simon's old DC?"_ Alex asked, confused, "_W-why?"_

Gene let out his breath.

"Talked about starlight, Bols. He knows things are fragile. Got to make sure he doesn't come around, shaking the walls too much."

He heard Alex's breathing deepen on the line. News of Keats's sneaky attack had shaken her naturally and she tried to keep herself calm.

"_I don't like the sound of that,"_ she said quietly.

"He's gone for now," Gene told her, "but we'll have to step up security. Or get a Keats-seeking Missile. One or the other.

"_I like the sound of the second plan,"_ Alex told him.

Gene sighed.

"You and me both, Bolly," he said. He paused just for a moment to fish his flask from his pocket. "Just make sure you stay well away from here, Lady B. Not letting that twat of a rat within a mile of you."

"_Gene, there's not much danger of me coming to the station when I'm about to –" _

That was the last thing Alex was able to say before the phone dropped as another urgent visit to the bathroom beckoned. A few distant noises were all Gene needed to know that the call was over and the toilet was her new best friend.

"Very elegant, Bolly," he muttered as he put down the receiver, "telephone puking, hallmark of a posh tart."

He took the cap from his flask and drank down the harsh liquid, trying to numb the fear that seeing Keats on the premises, hovering over Lindsay like a vulture around a carcass, had put into him. Keats could tell his domain was crumbling around him and couldn't wait to swoop in and pick up the pieces. Where did that leave them now?

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: As Christmas breathes down our necks and life becomes ever more crazy this is most likely the last time I'll be updating until after Christmas, so I just wanted to wish you all a merry Christmas and a very peaceful one, too. Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, I am so grateful for your thoughts and feedback and to know that you've been enjoying this story so far. I've made some really good friends through writing this series of stories this year and I am so grateful for that. Plus I'm going to spend Christmas Eve reading all the xmas A2A fics that have popped up in the last couple of weeks!**_

_**Have a very merry Christmas, everyone! x**_


	32. Chapter 31: Break It Up

**Chapter 31**

Alex paced up and down, turned over thoughts and decisions in her mind and tried to work out whether or not to call Simon. Gene hadn't told her to, or _not_ to, or said that _he_ was calling him. The thought of Keats trying to sneak around and take Lindsay from under their noses had started her blood boiling and she couldn't relax. It was all very well Gene warning her to stay away from the station while Jimbo was sniffing around but in practice all she wanted to do was to march in and make sure he didn't get what he was looking for.

She was trying hard to balance her safety and that of their baby with doing the right thing by the station. She was only too aware of her own precarious situation. She knew she'd already almost faded out once and the voices of her surgeon and medical team were not making her feel any more secure about staying where she was.

But Simon at least had to know. She decided that much and knew she had to make the call. The wait for him to answer his mobile was agonising – she knew he hated the phone that weighed about five times as much as the one he'd been used to and usually avoided answering it if he possibly could – he claimed it burned his ear – but eventually he answered.

"Yes?"

Alex took a deep breath.

"Simon; it's Alex. can you talk?"

There was a pause, presumably as he checked for any bespectacled men lurking nearby.

"Y-yes," he said nervously.

"I need you to listen to me carefully," she said quickly. She wasn't altogether sure how long it would be before the toilet started calling her name, "I know what you said to me and I know that you're trying to punish yourself but you have to get out of that place and come back home."

"Alex, I told you yesterday –"

"It's all getting a bit too serious for your stupid self-torture and pride," Alex told him crossly, "there are stars all over the place and Keats is sniffing around after your DC." 

There was a pause.

"Lindsay?"

"Gene's already thrown him out once, Alex told him, her pacing speeding up, "Sounds like he's trying to scoop up as much of the station as he can before everything falls apart."

There was another pause.

"What do you mean, '_falls apart'_?" he asked eventually.

"What do you _think_ I mean, Simon?" cried Alex, "what happened when I was trapped in two thousand and eleven and the other me ended up deserting you for Fenchurch West? Except this time things seem to be falling apart even faster."

She heard him swallow on the line.

"But why would that happen?"

"Because you've walked out on us!" cried Alex, "and for whatever reason you seem to be quite important! And unless you want to see Fenchurch East, as well as me and Gene, swept down the plughole then I suggest you get back there right now!"

"Alex, I _can't."_

"Enough bloody self-pity!"

"It's not!" She heard him sighing, "Alex, Gene asked me to… to do something. To help. To get rid of… certain rodents permanently. And what's what I'm doing, but I need more time."

"We might not _have_ time!"

"I'm doing the best that I can –"

"The best thing you can do is get your arse back to Fenchurch East!" cried Alex, sounding more like Gene by the minute.

There was a pause as Simon tried to think fast, torn between Alex's insistence and the plans he was already trying to put into action. It wasn't that easy, it really wasn't.

"Please don't think I'm not listening to you…" he said eventually.

Alex closed her eyes as anxiety welled up inside her.

"So that's a no then."

"It's a _hold the line,"_ said Simon, "I just need a little more time." She heard him sigh and fluster a little, "please, listen to me. Just a few hours. Just today. And if I can't get what I need then I'll come back with my tail between my legs. But I've already let you both down once, I don't want to let you down again. I'm halfway there, just give me a few hours."

"It's not safe," Alex tried to impress upon him, "for you, for us… Simon, you have to come back where you belong."

There was a moment of hesitation.

"I have to go now," he said and cut the call leaving Alex to stare angrily at the phone.

"Bloody –" she couldn't think of the right word to finish her sentence so she left it with an angry groan of frustration instead. She continued to pace as she left the phone on the side, trying to calm her anger. What was Simon playing at? Couldn't he hear how deadly serious her tone was? He had to come back, there were no two ways about it. The walls were crumbling around them and if he didn't make it back soon then there might be little left for him to return to.

Her head started to spin so she sat down and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. God, something didn't feel right. She laid a hand against her forehead as the room seemed to float around her. There were echoes of voices, things she couldn't quite identify. She could feel her limbs growing heavy. She knew she needed to calm down. Perhaps a lay down or a nap would help, she decided. After all, there was no one around to see. She felt weak for even thinking about having a snooze but she also knew she wasn't a hundred percent and it was better than passing out again.

She closed her eyes and leaned back, trying to stop the room from spinning around her. Soon sleep came and took her away for a little while and she welcomed a refreshing and dreamless sleep, in blissful ignorance of the fact that her image flickered and faded, just for a few seconds.

~xXx~

Simon stared at his phone, already feeling guilty for hanging up on Alex. He laid it on his desk and started to walk in circles around the room, his fingers making roads and tunnels as he swept them through his hair. He was torn, he didn't know what to do for the best. Gene wanted one thing, Alex wanted another and all Simon wanted was to make things right and go back to Fenchurch East. He had to make up for what he'd done, not just for Alex and Gene but for the sake of his conscience. He had to get that evidence, whatever it might be – something, anything that would help them to strip Keats of his title.

He breathed in deeply and gathered his courage before marching back out of the basement and into CID. There was no sign of Keats – that was good. Well, good and bad. Simon didn't like the thought that he might still be at Fenchurch East, sniffing around Lindsay. She was a bright spirit and just the sort of person Keats would swoop upon. She was different to his usual victims in that she was a 'deady' – she had no idea that she'd passed away or that this wasn't real life. He generally preferred to target people who he could promise a path home, but Simon supposed neither Vickery nor Eddie were much use to Keats. Vickery was a blubbing idiot and Eddie was too busy enjoying his 'vivid dream' to try to get home.

So, he supposed, Keats would be going after the sparky ones, the attractive ones, the ones he'd like to see in his bed as well as behind the spare desks in CID. He supposed Lindsay fulfilled all of those requirements.

His eyes scanned the office and spotted Victoria. She was already staring at him. That made him feel uncomfortable. What made it worse was that her eyes no longer had the disapproving glare to them that he was used to. They had a different quality. An anxiety. A nervousness. A hesitation. She seemed to want to tell him something. He was about to walk over to her but she started to head in his direction instead. It made him swallow nervously.

"Hi, he said quietly as she came to a halt in front of him. Her expression was stony, empty and anxious.

"You've got a way with words.," she said quietly.

Simon looked at her worriedly.

"I have?"

She nodded slowly and slipped her hand into her pocket.

"I have enough bloody nightmares in this place," she told him hurriedly, "could have done without you adding to them last night."

Simon felt a little guilty/.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

Victoria took her hand from her pocket and gripped his own. She skipped something into his palm and looked seriously into his eyes. She almost felt guilty about what she was doing, even though it was no more than he'd asked of her. His eyes were somehow so innocent; the sparkling blue that spoke of hope and expectation that somehow he actually hoped to fulfil his plans. She knew that Keats wasn't going to stand down without a hell of a fight. She wasn't sure even Simon understood quite how deeply his malevolence ran.

"Here," she whispered, "don't look at it, don't open your palm, don't let anyone see."

Simon closed his fingers around an object that felt shiny and metallic.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's something you've had in your possession before," Victoria told him seriously, "when you _worked_ here before. Just after I handed this to you…" she closed her eyes for a moment, "well, let's just say any time someone borrows it they seem to 'leave' their employment here within an hour and Four-Eyes usually ends up on extended leave. Or in a coma."

Simon felt so confused he thought he'd need a hundred rounds of Botox to get rid of the wrinkles her words had caused.

"But I don't understand what –"

"The basement," she hissed, "the other one. The archives." She stepped backwards. "If there's anything… any evidence… it'll be down there." She chewed on her lip as her stomach turned over with anxiety. "But whatever you find, I don't want to know. And that key never came from me. "

Simon nodded slowly.

"Understood," he whispered.

He watched as she turned and walked away, the metal key in his palm almost burning his skin with possibility. He breathed in deeply, trying to gather his thoughts. He'd been down there before. It was overrun with tapes, he knew that much, but there had been some files too. Maybe there would be something he could use. He knew he was on borrowed time so if he was going to do this he had to do it now.

With one final nod for self-assurance he turned and left CID, his heart racing and his palms starting to sweat. Whatever was down there, he knew it wasn't going to be pretty, then then again very little about Fenchurch West _was_. He only hoped that he'd find something Gene could use against Keats and finally take away the power he relished. This might be the only chance they would have to take his title from him.

Whatever lurked below, Simon was about to find out.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I hope you all had a very merry and peaceful Christmas and that Santa brought you everything that you wanted! I have to admit, Christmas was lovely but I did miss writing so I'm hoping to get stuck into some more chapters in the next few days. -x-**_


	33. Chapter 32: For The Dead

**Chapter 32**

It wasn't the first time Simon had made the journey down to the basement. It wasn't even the second. But somehow this time was more daunting than the first two put together. He'd first made that voyage when he was seeking Keats's own tape. Then, again, to find Alex when the wrong version was inhabiting her body. But this time he didn't even know what he was looking for – only that the world would fall apart if he didn't find it.

His hand trembled as he unlocked the door and peered into the dark space that lurked beyond the ground floor. He remembered the lights as he switched them on with their loud metallic clanking noise. It sounded like someone was crashing a couple of pan lids together every time someone tried to switch them on. When all but one was alight and buzzing he stepped in and closed the door behind him, pocketing the key. That one light kept buzzing and flickering but it seemed its days were numbered.

"Let's hope that's not a bad omen," he mumbled as he started to take a look around.

In all honesty not much had changed from the last time he'd been down there. A few extra boxes of tapes, filing cabinets a little more full, but really there was very little that was different. He wasn't really sure where to begin – there were plenty of papers to look through but he had such a limited amount of time and there really was very little order to them. It was pretty much a dumping ground. So much for the 'archiving'.

Eventually he started to look through some files in one of the cabinets. Some of them were locked and he didn't have the keys so he just had to hope he'd find something useful in the ones that were open. He did find a few files from Fenchurch East and realised they were the ones Kim had stolen for him many months ago. He shuddered as he thought about the way Keats had used and abused her, just as he had with so many others. Anyone who he thought could offer him something – be it sex or classified information – he would swoop upon as fast as anything.

His mind went to Lindsay; bright, cheerful Lindsay who had always perked up the office with a smile and a happy word or two. He knew full well that Keats wasn't going to leave her alone, not now he'd set his sights on her. He knew from experience that Keats was the proverbial bad penny that would turn up on her doorstep again and again until she gave in. But Lindsay wasn't a weak woman by any means, and unlike his usual victims she had no recall of 'home' so Keats had nothing to bribe her with – the thought of what he'd do to someone who point-blank snubbed him made Simon worry more. He seemed so viciously angered by Robin's refusal to buckle to his demands – was Lindsay going to get that same level of spite?

The more his mind raced, the more he thought about the poor girl and the less he focused on the files. He couldn't get the thought of it out of his mind. He and Lund say had never become close friends the way he had with Kim but they'd had a lot of laughs, shared plenty of jokes and Simon purely admired her attitude and personality. She was 'his' – one of the souls who he was responsible for. Gene's angry words came back to him from the day Kim had gone home –_ "She was yours, Simon… you let her down…"_ He wasn't going to fucking let another one down.

He recalled the terrible sensation he felt the first time he realised Lindsay was already dead. He was still getting acclimatised to his role, even now, and didn't have the same insight and instinct that Gene and Alex boasted but he would sometimes catch glimpses of her passing or 'know' something inside. However, he still didn't actually know _how_ she had died. He was sure it would be in her file but he'd never had the heart to read it so he didn't know for certain. Now he found himself so concerned for her wellbeing with Keats sniffing about that he really needed to know.

Files forgotten, he moved to one of the cupboards and his eyes started to scan the names along the sides of the myriad tapes kept there. There were some he recognised and many that he didn't but there was only one he was looking for. He finally found it and reached out to pick it up. Lindsay's name was written across the side of the tape in black pen. He closed his eyes for a moment – was he really going to do this? It felt like such an imposition, watching the most private moment of someone's life – their death. But he had to know. If there was any way at all that he was going to make sure Keats stayed away from her then he had to know for sure how she lost her life.

His hands were shaking as he switched on the TV and the electrical humming stung his head as the screen started to warm up. Slipping the tape into the slot, he pressed play, sat back and waited. His heart was thumping and his nerves building as the static on the screen cleared and the picture came into clear focus.

There she was; her trademark red hair skimming the shoulders of her dark blue blazer as she ran through the street. There was shouting and screaming all around, the sound of buildings ablaze, crackling as they slowly burnt to the ground. What the hell was this? Some sort of riot?

There were so many uniformed officers around too, trying to calm the crowd. He watched as Lindsay approached an inspector and showed her ID, but her voice was drowned out by the chanting and screaming around her. The inspector nodded and pointed in one direction, which she began to walk in but before she'd gone very far three men in dark balaclavas barrelled into a WPC, one of them calling her a '_fucking pig' _while another oinked and snorted at her. Knocked to the ground, the officer tried to threaten arrest but one of the men held a lighter out towards her and threatened to turn her into bacon if she came any closer. While his two mates started to run, Lindsay's eyes flashed with fury and she began to run towards him. He quickly started to run after his friends but she was hot on the trail.

Again her speech was drowned by all the noise around her as he watched her perusing them past another burning building. Simon sat there, waiting for the inevitable, for one of the men to turn upon her and to take her life, but the screen very suddenly turned white as a blast of epic proportions came through the speakers. As the whiteness faded and turned into a wild lick of flame it became very clear that the window of the shop had blown out and the road – plus everyone in it - had been caught in the fireball.

"Oh…. My…. Fucking…." Simon trailed off, bile rising into his throat. The scene began to home in upon one charred body on the floor and it took a moment for Simon to realise it was Lindsay. The moment it sunk in he jumped to his feet and turned around, fearing that he was about to lose his breakfast on the floor. He paced up and down, gripping his hair between his fingers, struggling to cope with what he had seen. That bright, beautiful soul inside of her had travelled to the world through the most horrific of endings.

He glanced around and the video was still playing. He couldn't handle it. He reached out and hastily switched it off, so angry with the world and with everything in it, the cruel waste of life made him shake his head and want to scream. She was so young – so fucking _young…_

His angry pacing came to an abrupt halt as one name stood out to him. One name, on one shelf, staring back at him brought him to a standstill. It was by complete coincidence that his eyes had even settled there. He wasn't expecting to see it, so when his eyes came upon it he wasn't sure how to react. He felt his heart miss a beat and his stomach turned over inside of him.

_Robin._

He'd seen his tape there before, when he'd been looking for Keats's. he had learnt the hard way that even people who were only 'stopping over' and eventually went home had tapes of their own – watching Kim's had almost broken his heart – but it was still a shock to see Robin's name staring back at him.

He should have known better. He really should. He knew that only pain could come of it but he couldn't stop himself from walking towards the shelf and taking out the tape.

"Shit," he breathed as he turned it over and over in his hands. God, he missed him so much. Eight months… nearly nine months since they'd been parted by life and death, and he would have done anything to see him again if only for a moment. He didn't even have a photograph any more – Keats had seen to that when his ripping spree took it away from him.

He shook his head slightly and swallowed hard as he took the tape from its case and pressed the 'eject' button on the TV. Lindsay's tape came out of the machine with haste and Simon tossed it to one side to insert Robin's instead.

_Why am, I doing this? No good will come of this. This is a big mistake,_ he told himself. But then again he seemed to be good at ignoring his inner voice these days.

He pressed play. His eyes closed for a moment and he took a very deep breath. He knew full well what he was going to see.

_"Hey! Seatbelts!"_

Simon gave a quiet gasp of despair as he watched himself beside Robin in the car. He swallowed and tried to stop tears from forming in his eyes. This was only the first few seconds of the tape and he was in danger of crying. He watched himself and Robin, side by side in the car, Robin driving along in anger to avenge the shooting of his beloved police dog, Cassandra.

_"No time."_

It was the first time Simon had heard Robin's voice in so long. He closed his eyes and edged a little closer to the screen, his chest tightening. He could hardly stand to watch the tape. He knew full well what was coming up and wasn't sure he could deal with it. He forced his eyes back open though and saw himself on the screen, terrified.

_"Please, Rob, I know you're angry but driving like this isn't going to help anyone! You don't even know where you're going!"_

Why the hell hadn't he worked harder to calm him down? Held him back? Restrained him? Stopped the car somehow? _Fuck_, this was torture. Absolute torture.

_"I'm following the side road,"_ he heard Robin say, "_it heads straight to the airfield. I'll bet he's got a plane on standby."_

_"They'll have alerted the airport by now. Please, slow down!"_

"I should have stopped you, Robin!" he cried, "I should have –" he trailed off as he found himself choked with tears. He knew watching this was only going to make him feel worse but he'd done it anyway. _Shit_.

_"I've got to get to him,"_ Robin hissed on the screen.

_"And do what when you get there?"_ Simon heard himself say_, "Just listen to yourself! I know you love that dog but what do you think is going to happen if you get to the guy? Are you going to kill him? Punch him? What kind of charges are you going to face, Robin?"_

_"I just want to get to him,"_ Robin's face was full of anguish and determination, _"I want to make sure he's not going to get away with this!"_

_"He won't!"_ Simon hated to watch himself so desperate and so helpless. If he'd only known then what he knew now… "_but this is not the way."_

_"Then what would you have me do, hmm_?" he saw Robin turn to him in the car, _"sit down with a nice cup of tea, waiting for the news that he's disappeared off into the night, never to be seen again?"_

_"Robin, Look out!"_ he heard his own voice screaming

Simon felt every jolt and every turn as he watched the car strike the fallen tree and turn over and over, their bodies thrown around like socks in a washing machine.

"Oh _god_, Robin," he cried as he stared on, the screen showing a close up of Robin's still, comatose body in the driver's seat, "God, I miss you." He felt the tears threatening to steam down his face now and reached out to switch off the tape but before he had a chance the picture changed to a very different shot of the two of them together; half-undressed, hot and sweaty in the toilets of _Bask_. Simon gave a loud gasp and thrust his hand over his mouth as he watched. He hadn't been expecting that. _Shit_, he was going to see Robin fading… he was going to see him leaving the world, wasn't he? Why the hell was _that_ on the tape? Kim's tape didn't show her disappearing from Gene's world, he was sure of that. If it had, maybe he wouldn't have let her down so badly.

But there they were, glowing from their illicit moment in the gents', their faces bright and sparkling with joy, the ring sitting there on Robin's finger, full of promise. It choked Simon up, made him gasp and cry in anguish as the guilt of what he'd done with Keats overcame him. Oh _god_, why the _fuck_ did he do that? The drink and the loneliness were not an excuse – he'd committed the very worst betrayal anyone could ever commit.

_"You're amazing,"_ he watched himself breathe to Robin, barely able to get a word out. The look on Robin's face almost killed him stone dead; the love, the joy, the ecstasy.

_"I wish this night never had to end,"_ he heard him say.

_"Then maybe it doesn't."_

He watched himself closing his eyes and leaning forward; Robin's own eyes closing and awaiting the kiss he knew was coming, but quite suddenly Robin seemed to flinch and looked as though he was trying to shield his eyes. It was as through something bright shone upon him and he could hardly stand the light. Then, quite suddenly he faded into nothing and Simon could only watch himself kissing the cubicle door.

"Oh god," Simon choked as he now sobbed quite unashamedly, the anguish finally escaping from him in loud bursts of agony. _God, Robin_… the fizz of static made him jump as the picture rolled a couple of times and then refocused upon a hospital room. There were machines all around the bed where, lying quite still, was the dark-haired man that Simon had just watched vanish from his arms. He leaned forward to see his awakening unfolding. He almost couldn't take it. It was too painful to watch. He thought about switching the screen off right there and then but he held back as he watched a man moving closer to Robin's bedside. With a gasp, Simon recognised who it was.

"Dad?" he whispered. He closed his eyes and choked out another sob. At least his father had been there for Robin when he awoke – thank god he hadn't been by himself. That had been Simon's worst fear. He'd heard snippets on the news that had broken through to him about Robin's awakening but he had never known for sure that his dad had really been by his side. He watched closely as he watched his father talking softly to Robin, his own grief for the loss of his only son punctuating his speech with tears.

Oh god, this was torture of the very worst kind. Simon couldn't take it. This was too much, far too much and the tape had to go off _now_, but as though it anticipated his movement towards the eject button the picture rolled and fizzed for a second before showing another very clear image of Robin, once again in a car and on a very familiar road, but he wasn't the one driving.

"_Alex?"_ cried Simon as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, "what the fuck…?"

He peered at the screen, crossly wiping away his tears to get a clearer look. It all seemed like a complete and total piece of surrealist nonsense. He couldn't make out what he was seeing at all. Alex looked… well, different. _Younger_. More like the Alex whose bedside he'd sat by in 2010. But what the fuck was she doing in a car with Robin?

He was so shocked by what he was seeing that it took several moments for him to knit it together – this was Alex's return to 1995, seen from the other side. He clasped his hands to his mouth and watched, spellbound, as Alex tore along the road with a terrified Robin beside her.

_"Oh shit, no!"_ Simon watched Robin turn pale in horror

_"What? What, Robin?"_ Alex glanced at him, alarmed by his tone.

_"This is where it happened… Where we crashed. Me and Simon."_ Robin's words shook Simon to the core. He swallowed as he watched the expression on Robin's face becoming ever more fearful "_Shit, no, not here..."_

_"Robin?"_ He watched Alex call his name as he closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath as though praying, "_Robin?"_

_"This is where Simon died,"_ Robin's voice eventually said, and to Simon that was like a stab to the heart.

"Oh God, Robin," he whispered as he stared at the screen, "what have you been through since I died?"

_"Do you know where the road leads?"_ he watched Alex ask.

_"The airfield."_

_"Right, hold on."_

He watched Alex put her foot on the accelerator and attempt some Gene Hunt-style driving. He had never seen Robin simultaneously look so pale and yet so green. There was a car ahead of them that they were pursuing. Who the hell was in that? He recalled Alex mentioning something about Layton. Was he the other driver? Whoever was driving, their car began to swerve highly erratically.

_"What is he doing?"_ he watched Alex ask

_"I don't know,"_ he heard Robin say as his expression became more anxious_, "But I don't feel –"_ he stopped talking abruptly as the other car began to spin,_ "Holy shit! Alex, stop-"_

_"Shit!"_ Alex cried.

"Shit!" Simon echoed as he watched the cars colliding, spinning, screeching across the road. His heart was in his mouth as he cried, watching Robin going through something so terrible, but then the image changed and Robin was no longer in the car with _Alex_. He was sitting beside someone very familiar indeed.

"Oh shit, that's –" Simon stared at his own image as both men slowly caught sight of each other for a split second before Simon saw himself replaced by Alex again. Now his heart was positively racing. He remembered that moment so clearly, when the car had crashed and he found Robin there beside him for just a moment. He _knew_ Robin had slipped into that world for a few moments that day – now he had confirmation.

He thought the scene would end there but the tape kept on rolling.

_"Shit – petrol,"_ Simon watched as Robin forced the car door open with some difficulty and ran to the other side to haul Alex from the driver's seat. She was lying still and lifeless, her body limp. "_Oh God, Alex, no…"_ His heart racing, Simon watched as Robin dragged her body further away from the car, as far as he could manage._ "Oh God," _Robin cried, finally reaching the end of his strength and stopping beside the very spot where Simon's life had ebbed away.

Simon could barely stand it as he watched Robin sink to his knees and pull Alex into his lap, checking for a pulse he was never going to find. "_Come on,"_ he mumbled, checking her neck and then her wrist but there was nothing, no sign of life.

As he watched the screen, something was happening, Simon knew it. He could feel it. He couldn't understand it but he recognised it. It was something he had experienced himself but the sight of Robin holding Alex and sending her soul on its way shook him deeply inside. He gasped and he cried, desperate to understand how it was possible.

"_Oh my god,"_ he heard Robin's terrified voice utter, just before one choking breath came from Alex's body.

"Her soul came home," Simon whispered, wiping a tear away, "but her body remained."

_"Alex?"_

Simon watched as the truth dawned upon Robin as he sat, holding her body, weeping with all that he had seen and felt in those last few moments. To Simon's horror he watched as Robin's eyes slowly closed and his own body collapsed to the ground, passers by rushing to their aid. Simon knew, as he watched, that right then Robin's heart wasn't beating. He remembered his own experience as he and Gene took the other Alex to the hospital. The strange pain in his chest, feeling like he had electric shocks running through him.

He'd known back then it wasn't a panic attack as the doctors had said, and as he watched an ambulance crew working to revive Robin he knew, once and for all, what had happened.

"I was picking up on what you were going through," he whispered, his hand gently reaching toward the screen.

_"OK, let's try again, charging…."_

_"And clear –"_

_Pow!_

_Beep –_

_"That's it!"_

_"No, wait… sats are dropping…"_

_"OK, we're almost there. ETA one minute."_

_"We're losing him again –"_

_"Come on, we're almost there…"_

_"Charging…"_

_"And, clear -"_

_Pow._

He remembered the dream of someone reaching out to him. Someone's hand, begging him to hold on, to pull them over… someone…

"I couldn't hold on to you, Robin!" he cried as he knew once and for all what had happened. "I tried but I couldn't!"

He was in danger of crying again but the scene on the screen flickered and changed as a burst of static took away the ambulance crew and put in their place a hospital room, with a face Simon had never in a million years expected to see.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he cried.

He watched in absolute horror at the sight as Robin and Keats fought beside the bed of a very familiar woman. Once again, the room of an unconscious Alex seemed to be the focal point for the madman to unleash his fury, and this time it was aimed at Robin. Brandishing a breadknife, he slashed wildly at Robin's chest and stomach, his clean white shirt quickly filling with red. Simon couldn't move – he could hardly breathe. He watched Robin aiming a sharp pair of scissors in Keats's direction but Keats grabbed his wrist.

_"You stupid little boy,"_ he heard Keats his angrily, _"you think I'm going to lose my life twice in the same room? Think again."_

"Oh god," Simon breathed as he watched Keats turning towards Alex with the scissors while Robin pulled hard against the pair of handcuffs that seemed to be holding him against the metal lamp on the wall, finally breaking the lamp and leaving the heavy metal shade free for Robin to strike Keats square in the head with.

Simon found himself cheering, as though he was watching a wrestling match., he looked around a little guiltily. He'd quite lost himself for a moment, but stared on as Robin managed to free himself from the cuffs and grabbed Keats's knife. The battle went on until Robin cried,

_"For fuck's sake, just die will you?"_ as Keats came towards him with the scissors. _"Shit!"_

Knives, scissors, punches – they flew in both directions until finally Simon heard Keats sneer,

_"Waste of blood and waste of space,"_ and reached out to strangle Robin, but Robin still had the scissors firmly in his grasp and this time he sank them hard into Keats throat.

Simon shook as he watched. The scene fazed in and out and he couldn't always make sense of what he saw as Robin made sure that Keats stopped breathing before the evil man's wounds faded and his features morphed into Layton's, then all of a sudden the scene shifted and Robin was in a car, driving along, his shirt now fully red with the copious amounts of blood he was losing from his body.

"Fuck… Robin, how are you still _alive_?" he whispered as he watched. The scene cut in and out, fizzing and spitting with static. Simon adjusted the tracking but it seemed to make little difference until he found himself watching Robin racing onto an old derelict boat.

_"Kim?"_

OK, that wasn't a word Simon had been expecting to hear Robin say.

_"Robin?" _

That was Kim's voice, definitely Kim's voice. Simon watched as the friend who'd departed Gene's world just days before staggered towards Robin and threw herself against his chest, breathing heavily, terrified that he'd already been killed.

_"Kim, we've got to get out of here now,"_ he heard Robin cry, _"Keats says he's left a bomb on the boat."_

_"What?" _

_"It could be a bluff… I'm not taking any chances."_

_"Rob, I can't untie Molly," _

"Molly?" Simon's brain was racing, this was making less sense all the time. He shook his head, trying to fathom what was happening as Kim continued,

_"I've fucked up my elbow… I mean I buggered up my… My elbow is busted up!"_

"Shit, it really is Molly," Simon cried as he watched Robin untying her. What the hell –

He watched as Molly tried to stand up but her legs gave way beneath her. Not understanding any of what he'd just watched, Simon saw Robin scoop her into his arms and stagger from the boat, using every bit of determination left in his body. Kim walked by his side and they aimed for a car, headlights blazing and music pouring from within. It was a song Simon didn't know. Maybe from after his death?

_# …And I feel like I'm breaking up,_

_and I wanted to stay,_

_Headlights on the hillside,_

_don't take me this way,_

_I don't want you to hold me,_

_I don't want you to pray,_

_This is bigger than us... #_

Simon swallowed. His stomach churned with every moment of footage. What the hell was he watching now? What was this? _When_ was this? how many times was Robin going to almost die?

_"Rob, look at you… your shirt… oh my God…"_

Kim's words panicked Simon twice; first of all because it brought his attention back to how severely Robin had been hurt and secondly because he realised Kim was consistently calling him _Rob_. Even Simon only called him Rob occasionally and as far as he knew he was the only one who did. What the _fuck_? He remembered his nightmares; Robin and Kim… Keats's words about them… He shook his head, trying to dispel the ludicrous possibility from his head as he watched Robin sink to his knees and lay Molly on the ground in front of the car. Rain was falling around them as the song continued to play out;

_# …And I feel like I'm breaking up,_

_and I wanted to stay,_

_Headlights on the hillside,_

_don't take me this way,_

_I don't want you to hold me,_

_I don't want you to pray,_

_This is bigger than us... #_

As the end of the music played he watched Robin's body come crashing to the ground. He could hardly breathe again. He watched and waited to see what would happen as ambulance crews started to plunder the scene and he heard Kim crying,

"_Stop! He doesn't want this! He doesn't want to be resuscitated…"_

Simon's heart almost stopped as he heard that. Robin had been trying to get to him –

But yet something was pulling him back…

On the screen before him, a strange turn of events took place. While the paramedics were still working on Robin, Kim suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed to the ground.

"_Oh what the fucking hell…?"_ Simon cried. He jumped to his feet and shook his head, terrified by what he was witnessing. How many levels of torture did this have to go through? How many people he cared about did he have to see this way?

Now the tape gave way to static. Just static. That was the last time Robin had almost made it over. He shook his head as tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't understand all of what he'd seen, he just knew that twice Robin had come so close to joining him in Gene's world but he had been pulled back again.

"Why the fuck isn't this your time?" he cried, as though the tape could answer him.

He supposed that was it; His feature-length showing of Robin's near death experiences over. He knew he should switch off the tape and get back to finding evidence bit he couldn't find the energy to move. He felt worse than ever, especially seeing how strong Robin had become on the other side of the line. Shit, Keats had been right – while he'd gone to pieces and fallen apart Robin was going from strength to strength without him.

There was a burst of sound and Simon's eyes moved back to the screen. There was still static showing but every now and then a flash of something came through. It looked almost like a tape that had been recorded over something older, with the old show coming through. Lines of static fell and cleared and finally a voice blasted out;

"_And coming up on the BBC in the new year…"_

"Oh Keats," Simon muttered "run out of new tapes? Using our own bloody cast offs?"

He reached out to turn off the TV, not really wishing to see what the BBC's new year line up was – especially since it was only May – when he found himself stopped by the sight of Robin on the screen again. He froze, unsure for a moment what part Robin was taking in the BBCs new line up before he realised that he was witnessing something… something that hadn't even happened yet. Something that –

"_Shit_," he whispered, the picture jumping and breaking up then reforming for a few moments.

There was Robin, standing somewhere unfamiliar. It wasn't Fenchurch, he knew that much. Where the fuck _was_ it? Robin looked different somehow, too. He wasn't sure quite what it was… there was a sense of _style_ about him, something he couldn't explain. The black shirt was something he wasn't used to for a start, and – what the fuck was that - an _eyebrow_ piercing?

He watched him walk towards a shop… a jewellers? Looked like it. There were watches… lots of watches and Robin regarding his own with frustration. Had it stopped? The picture cut out and came back again; more glimpses of watches, and then of rings, and then -

It was all such a blur. People running – fast movement – things…. happening… so…. _fast…_

And then –

_Bang –_ a loud noise that made Simon jump out of his skin with a fairly girly scream as the screen went black and yards of tape started spooling out of the machine.

"Shit," cried Simon, _"shit!"_

What the hell had he _seen_? The future? Was Robin coming back? Oh _god_, was he coming _back_?

He began to pace up and down, trying to work through all the images he'd seen. What the hell was happening? He couldn't make sense of it. The last part of the tape had been so jumpy and fuzzy that he could barely make out what he'd witnessed but he felt… he felt something inside… something told him that Robin would soon be on his way.

"_Shit,"_ he muttered again, but his pacing was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the TV screen coming back on. He spun around, wondering what the hell he was going to find this time, and to his absolute shock the screen wasn't showing Robin any longer – it was showing the car park at Fenchurch East.

"What the…?" he muttered. He peered at the screen to see Keats walking happily across the car park, back towards the building for another crack at Lindsay, no doubt.

"Shit," he muttered. He reached for his phone and tried to call Gene but there was no signal down in the basement_. "Fuck!"_

He knew it was time to make a move, with or without evidence. Between Robin's tape and the sight of Keats edging back to Fenchurch East he felt fire burning through his veins. For the first time in a long time he felt as though he'd regained a little of his drive and his self-esteem. He had to stop Keats from whatever he was trying to do, not just to Lindsay but to Fenchurch East as a whole.

His legs took him quickly up the stairs and as he ran out to the car park he tried calling Gene again but there was no reply.

"Shit," he mumbled, jumping in his car and starting the engine. As he started to pull away he called Alex instead. He supposed the one good thing about mobile phones in the 90s was being allowed to make calls while driving. At least, he was pretty sure it was still legal.

"_Hello?"_

"Alex," Simon was surprised by how desperate his voice sounded.

_"Simon? What's the matter? What's happened?"_

Simon took a deep breath.

"Alex, I need your help," he said, "I need you to call Gene… I mean to keep calling Gene until he answers. I tried but there was no reply."

"_Why? What's happened?"_

"Keats is going back to Fenchurch West," Simon told her, "I just saw him. I had a… a weird…" he shook his head, "_telly_ moment… he's just gone through the car park. Tell Gene to keep an eye out, I think he's after Lindsay again."

"_Well where are you?"_

"On my way over," said Simon.

"_You… found what you were looking for?"_ Alex asked.

"No," said Simon, "but I found something better."

"What?"

Simon took a deep breath.

"My fight," he said. He knew Alex didn't understand what he was talking about and this wasn't the time to explain, so he simply said, "I'll tell you later. But please, call Gene?"

"I'll do my best to get through," Alex promised him just before he hung up.

With renewed determination Simon drove to Fenchurch East, to his home, to the station where he belonged. This was it now, the start of a new era. Keats's control was over. He'd found the strength he needed to pull himself up from the ground and take back his life. The first port of call was to get him away from his DC and from Fenchurch East. Beyond that – he wasn't sure. He just knew he wasn't going to be anyone's door mat any more – especial not Keats's.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: If you haven't read the previous stories in the series most of the events on Robin's tape happened in Strangers When We Meet, Whispering Her Name and Dead Man Walking**_


	34. Chapter 33: Nobody Knows

**Chapter 33**

_Ring, ring_

How many times had she tried calling now? There was no one there, still.

"_Damn_ this!" Alex cried. So much for Simon's request. Gene was clearly not at his desk, nor was he in CID, and he wasn't even in _Latte Land_ – she'd even tried there. She tried his desk one more time, but felt fairly certain he'd still not be answering the phone. Wherever he was, he wasn't in his office.

She started to panic a little. If Simon was right and Keats was on his way back to the station there was no telling what he was going to do when he got there.

She knew Simon was on his way but she was fairly sure she could make it to the station faster than he would, even after all the calls she'd tried to make. She decided there wasn't time to hold back or to wait it out – she had to make a decision and she knew that, where Keats was concerned, time was of the essence. It was time to make a move.

~xXx~

"Hello again."

Lindsay spun around nervously as she heard the voice, the same voice that had greeted her earlier that day. What the hell was he doing back?

"I still have your card, if I want to call then I will," she said quickly, trying to cut off a potential conversation before it even began.

Keats tutted and shook his head as he entered the room with a smile.

"Never good business to leave your potential new detective constable without a proper introduction," he said, "it was unfortunate that DCI Hunt decided to interrupt us."

"Unfortunate isn't quite the word I'd use," Lindsay said coldly, "maybe take off the 'u' and the 'n' from the start…"

Keats gave a false smile.

"Very amusing," he said, "but in all seriousness I think we should have a talk."

Lindsay picked up the phone on the desk that used to be Simon's.

"I think I'll have a talk to security," she said but before she'd finished dialling the extension Keats's finger cut the call. She looked at him, suddenly feeling very intimidated indeed, and that wasn't like Lindsay.

"If you know what's good for you you'll listen to me," he told her.

Lindsay swallowed. She tried to stand her ground.

"Is that a threat?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"No, it's a warning," said Keats, "tell me, Lindsay, where do you think you'll be in five… ten years' time if you stay where you are?"

Lindsay had no idea where this was going.

"I expect I'll still be doing my job," she said.

"Exactly. _Your_ job. No progression." he took a step back. "do you know how hard it is to make any kind of progress with Hunt in charge? When was the last time you saw someone promoted?"

Lindsay hesitated.

"Kim Stringer got promotion last December," she said, which set Keats's blood boiling. He'd been doing a very good job of not thinking about Kim since she went home. His dalliance with Simon and obsession with destroying him had been a very welcome distraction and one that had helped him to avoid confronting his feelings for her; the ones that were so abhorrent to his nature. He shuddered and pushed the thought away.

"Aside from Kimberley," he said, "it's a miracle if you see a promotion in a decade."

Lindsay hesitated.

"I'm pretty happy doing what I'm doing," she said, "I'm not interested in climbing the ladder. I just want to do my job well."

"You say that now, but once you've spent ten years under Hunt's thumb you'll be telling a different story," said Keats.

"DCI Hunt isn't even my head of division," Lindsay told him.

Keats smirked.

"And where _is_ your head of division?" he asked, "I'll tell you – he's working for me. Simon is happily under the employment of Fenchurch West." He began to edge closer to her. "Would you like to join him?" 

Lindsay set her jaw firmly.

"No thank you," she said.

"You worked well together," said Keats, "you're struggling here without him. Put in for a transfer and you can be working side by side again. Excellent promotion prospects and a fuck-off salary come as standard.

Lindsay was starting to lose her temper now.

"I said no thank you," she said through gritted teeth.

"And why not?" asked Keats, "what's so great about Fenchurch East that you'd turn down an offer like that?"

"Better looking DCI for a start," Gene's voice interrupted proceedings. Keats closed his eyes and almost groaned. _Not again._

Gene stepped into the room. He knew Keats would be back. He'd been more or less patrolling the station for the last hour to make sure that – if and when he risked it – he'd make sure he didn't stay for long.

"I was just telling young Lindsay here about her promotion prospects," Keats said as he turned around. He slowly walked towards Gene. "Practically non-existent, aren't they?"

"Like yer penis?" said Gene.

Keats didn't take the bait.

"How long was Chris part of your team, hmm?" he challenged, "how fast did he raise through the ranks? Oh yeah, that's right – he didn't."

"Promotion's not for everyone," Gene told him, "not everyone's happy to arse-lick their way to the top." He gave Keats a look of disgust. "Or _take_ it up the arse to get there."

"What about Malcolm?" Keats continued, "it was ten years before that man got out of uniform."

"It took him that long to find the velvet suit," said Gene.

Keats sneered in his face.

"You think you're so funny, Gene," he said, "see how hard you laugh when the walls start caving in." He started singing _Starry Starry Night_ which caused Gene to put his fingers in his ears.

"Don't give up yer day job, Jimbo," he said, "in fact, do give up yer day job, but don't try a music career instead."

"Well don't try one in stand-up comedy," Keats sneered. He glanced at Lindsay who was looking anxious. "Heard enough yet?" he asked, "still want to work for Hunt?" he left Gene for a moment and started walking back towards her. "why don't you ask him about his strange ceiling, hmm? How come he gets a planetarium plastered across it? It's not natural, is it?"

Lindsay seemed to freeze for a moment. Her eyes darted from Keats to Gene and back again.

"Stars," she whispered. She noticed Gene looking nervous suddenly. "I-I've seen stars," her voice waivered, "on the ceiling… in here…" she turned to Keats, "I thought I was overtired… what… what the _hell_…?"

Keats smiled.

"Tell me about your past, Lindsay," he said, "what's your mother like? What was your childhood like? Where did you work before you came here?"

Lindsay froze, her mouth slightly open. She tried to answer his questions, she really did, but her mind was blank. She couldn't remember her parents, or her childhood, or anything before her arrival at Fenchurch East.

"I…. I've always… worked here," she whispered.

"You can't have _always_ worked here," Keats smiled, "what did you do before?"

Lindsay started to tremble.

"I don't know," she whispered. Her eyes turned to Gene, "W-why don't I know?"

Gene turned to Keats.

"Why don't you go and take a walk off the roof?" he asked.

"That's what most of your friends do, isn't it?" Keats raised an eyebrow.

"Don't remember calling you a friend," Gene told him, _"Out."_

He grabbed his collar and started to pull him from the room but Lindsay called,

"Wait – I need to know –"

Keats sent one last smile towards her before Gene hauled him from the room.

"Yes, you _do_ need to know," he said, "Why don't you tell her, Gene?" his voice started to raise in volume, "why don't you tell her?"

"_Out!"_ Gene yelled, shoving him down the corridor. Keats glanced back, straightening up his collar and sent an evil glare towards Gene. Just because he was being thrown out for the second time didn't mean he hadn't won the round.

"Going to have a few questions to answer now, Hunt," he sneered, "good luck with that."

Gene paced forward and chased him down the corridor, then down the stairs. He felt himself starting to shake with anger. How many times was Keats going to waltz in and do this? How many times was he going to try to destroy his world?

When he was fairly sure that Keats had gone, at least for now, he turned and walked back towards Simon's old office to find Lindsay. Maybe he could talk his way out of it. Maybe he could explain. But as he arrived he found he was going to have a harder job doing that than he had expected because Lindsay had already fled from the room, as well as from the building.

As he peered out of the window he watched her run from the closest exit into the car park, looking left and right. Looking for answers. Looking for Keats.

"_Bastard,"_ Gene cried.

He spotted the bespectacled one emerging from another exit and watched as Lindsay ran towards him to ask the questions that she knew Gene wasn't going to answer. With a smattering of starlight across the ceiling Gene fled from the room and pelted down the nearest staircase.

The sands were slipping through the egg timer with haste now. His world was almost done.


	35. Chapter 34: Walking On the Milky Way

**Chapter 34**

Simon couldn't believe his eyes as he saw Alex running into the grounds of Fenchurch East. He drew up beside her and rolled down the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" he cried.

Alex glanced around.

"I've tried to call Gene but he's not answering," she explained breathlessly, "I thought I could get here before you!" she paused, "and I did."

"By three seconds," Simon commented but his attention was caught by the sight of a frantic Lindsay racing towards Keats, "Oh shit –"

"What –" Alex began but she caught sight of them too. "Oh _no…"_

Simon didn't hang around; he started the car again and sped towards them. He wasn't going to let Lindsay down, not if he could help it.

~xXx~

"Please," the sound of Lindsay's anxious voice made Keats gloat inside, "you have to tell me. What did you mean by all that stuff?"

Keats looked at her, that smirk upon his face.

"What _stuff_ would that be?" he asked.

"You _know_ what stuff," Lindsay's heart was racing, "the stars… what the hell did they mean? And why can't I remember my past… or how I got here… or what I did before I joined the station?" She waited for him to reply but all he did was smile. "Oh come _on!"_ she cried, "DCI Hunt isn't going to tell me – you're the only one who will."

Keats breathed in deeply to absorb the moment of glory. Oh, those words were music to his ears.

"I'll tell you everything, Lindsay," he said, "but I'll warn you – it's not pretty."

Before he had a chance the sound of squealing tyres came to a half beside them and to his absolute shock and horror the door of the red car opened and Simon stepped out with a look of absolute fury across his face.

"Leave her alone," he cried.

Keats looked a little nervous but pulled himself together and straightened himself up, edging backwards as Simon approached.

"I was just informing her," he began, "of one or two little truths about –" his sentence was cut off by Simon's fist as it flew towards his face and knocked him sideways. He stumbled backwards, almost fell to the ground but managed to stay upright just in time. He reached up to his jaw, the pain making him wonder for a moment if Simon had managed to dislocate it and his shocked eyes looked at Simon in horror.

"Have you taken leave of your –" he began but a second punch flew at him and this one knocked him to the ground.

"A _breadknife,_ Keats" he cried, never feeling such anger and venom towards another person in his life, "A fucking _breadknife_?" he grasped Keats by the collar and tried to pull him back to his feet, "what the fuck did Robin ever do to you? What the _fuck_ did he do to deserve that? Just because he wouldn't play your stupid little games when he was here? Because he didn't take the bait?"

"_Simon!"_ Gene's voice cried across the car park but Simon was on a roll.

"You could have killed him!" he screamed, dragging Keats towards him by the neck of his shirt and watching his face full will fear.

"Sounds like someone's taken a little trip into the basement," Keats hissed, "and he killed me, Simon, you remember that!" A sneer tok over his face, "besides, isn't that what you want? A dead Robin, arriving over here like a special delivery package?"

"Slashing him to pieces in a bloody hospital room?" Simon cried, pulling back his fist to punch him again but someone grabbed him from behind and he felt Gene's firm grip around his arms.

"Stop it, son, he's not worth the lawsuits," Gene told him.

"_And_ he tried to attack Alex's body with a fucking pair of scissors in her hospital bed," Simon cried, "wanted to give her a one-way ticket straight to Fenchurch West."

Gene seemed to freeze.

"He did?" Simon felt gene's grip loosen and finally let go. "Sorry, Simon. Didn't mean to cut you off in yer prime. Go ahead."

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Alex's voice was the last one Gene expected to hear.

"Bolly, what the _hell_ are you doing here?" he cried crossly, "I told you to stay well away!"

"I came to warn you Keats was back on the premises," Alex protested. She clutched her side and grimaced.

"What's wrong?" Gene asked anxiously.

"Got stitch," Alex hissed as Simon aimed a third punch at Keats, this time missing by millimetres.

"Oh, good shot, Simon," Keats mocked, giving him a round of slow applause, "not third time lucky for you, was it?" but he started to regret the mocking when he found Simon's hand around his collar again

"You're hilarious, Keats, fucking hilarious," he cried, "as hilarious as kidnapping a kid and tying her up on a boat, or handcuffing people to hospital lamps, or trying to kill comatose patients in their beds!"

Keats tried to punch his way out of Simon's grasp but found Gene holding his arm back.

"Might be time to send you on another little holiday," he said, "what do you think, Jimbo? Let's wait for a nice big car to come speeding in and see how you fair under the wheels."

"How was he in my _hospital_ room?" Alex felt shaken by those words.

"Somehow hitched a ride to two thousand and something," Simon said furiously, "decided to spend the trip looking up old acquaintances, didn't you, Keats?" he stared at him, his eyes flashing with fury. Never before had he felt such intense hatred towards one person. Never in his life. "And what the _fuck_ did you do to Kim?"

"Not as much as I wanted to," Keats's lips were flapping and running away with him by now. His fear had taken any kind of a filter off of hi words and he was only serving to make the baying crowd angrier but before either Simon or Gene could deal with him any further Lindsay's voice cried,

"For _fuck's_ sake, is _anyone_ going to tell me about those _bloody stars?"_

Alex glanced at her in a panic, then up at Gene. His face was grim. Alex had seen that expression before. It was the expression of someone about to lose everything. Her stomach churned and her heart raced. She didn't know what had happened before she arrived, only that she knew they'd have to turn it around.

"Lindsay, this man is insane –" she began but Lindsay shook her head.

"Forget that idiot," she said, "he's just a prat who uses his flapping lips to make up for his lack of genitalia."

Gene raised an eyebrow at Keats.

"She's got the measure of you there, Jimbo," he said.

"I saw the bloody stars myself! You can't deny that. Am I going crazy? Or is there something I should know?"

Alex, Gene and Simon looked to each other, all hoping that someone could provide a usable excuse but words were not forthcoming. The silence seemed to go on forever, aside from a few '_um's_ and _'errs'_ but no one could offer anything more solid than that, until suddenly the tension was broken by one deafening sound; a single gunshot that rang out through the car park. All five of them dropped to the ground and to Gene's horror he found Keats landing squarely in his lap.

"My my, Hunt, I never knew you cared," he smiled, receiving a hard shove from Gene.

"Get off before you stain me trousers with slime," Gene barked crossly as a voice cried out,

"_Stay where you are… all of you, stay right where you are… hands up, please… I don't want to hurt you but I'll do anything necessary, so put your hands up."_

Gene and the others very slowly raised their hands and watched as a middle-aged man brandished what appeared to be some kind of rifle. His face was fraught and his eyes full of fear. His hold on the scene was complete as every officer, detective and member of the public froze where they were. Stars were forgotten as the situation became all too human.

Suddenly it was more than starlight threatening their safety. The threat of bullets waiting to pierce flesh lurked alongside it.


	36. Chapter 35: Ladykillers

**Chapter 35**

The man behind the gun looked more terrified of the weapon in his hands than anyone around him did. His eyes darted around, not sure what he was going to do next. He'd got this far, and now he was losing his nerve. He wasn't sure what he was doing there, not really. He was just a regular, everyday man whose life had taken a bad turn. But somewhere in his mind he wanted to see someone pay for the tragedy that had befallen him.

Gene slowly got to his feet, his hands in the air. He wasn't afraid of the weapon. He wasn't afraid of the stranger. But he _was_ afraid of others being hurt.

"No one can 'elp you with a gun in their face," he said with a steady voice, "why don't you put it down and tell us what's itching your crotch?"

The man turned to Gene in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone to answer him or to speak at all. He trained his gun firmly upon him as it shook and trembled along with his hands.

"I told you not to move!" he cried.

"Someone has to find out what's got you all worked up," Gene said boldly, "if you don't talk to me I can't help you." he watched the man's wide eyes fill with anxiety. "You gonna trust me on this?"

"_Trust_ you?" the man gave slightly crazed laugh, "Like my wife trusted those…" he struggled for words, "_Woodentops_ in there," he aimed his finger towards the entrance of the part of the building where uniform resided, "…when they told her that they'd protect her when she stood up in court and faced the man that _raped_ her?"

Gene swallowed. He didn't know who the man was, nor what had happened to his wife, but he wasn't going to let him fire that rifle a second time.

"Standing up against a rapist in court," he said, "can't have been easy for her."

"Oh, you think?" cried the man. His limbs were flailing as he panicked, "She wanted to let the whole thing rest, couldn't face the thought of going through all that. But no, your uniformed chums put the hard sell on her. Used all their top-quality bribery lines. _You want this to happen to other people? If you don't stand up against him who will? Next time the victim might not be so lucky…_" he gave a vicious laugh. "Lucky! _That's_ a joke! Calling her lucky just because he didn't slit her throat? She lost her life in a different way that day."

Alex looked at Gene. His nerve was holding but he was running out of things to say. There were some times when the Gene Genie charm just wasn't going to wash and this looked like one of those occasions. She slowly got up from the floor with her hands up and met the man's stare.

"Facing her attacker must have taken a lot of courage, Mister…?" she began, but the man was in no mood to give his name.

"Yes, it did," he spat, "It took all her courage and all her strength and in the end it took her life." He was shaking with anger now, "because when she stood up in court after ten tons of pressure from those heart-hardened pigs they tore her apart. She had to relive everything, from start to finish, and when she was done they dredged up every single relationship she'd ever had… the fact she cheated on her first husband…. a one night stand from twenty five _years_ ago!" he aimed his gun at Alex which caused both her and Gene to gasp anxiously, "they painted her as a _slut!"_

"T-that wasn't fair," Alex began.

"Too bloody right that wasn't fair!" the man screamed, "she was _fifty three_ years old! He attacked her on a dark night as she walked home from a friend's house after work! She was poorly, couldn't fight back. He raped her, left her for dead and then the fucking _jury_ found there was not enough evidence to convict him _beyond all reasonable doubt!"_

"This is very distressing," Alex said quietly, "and I completely understand your anger, but it's difficult to help you when you're holding the gun. So why don't you put it down and we can go inside and talk this through properly?"

The man completely ignored her.

"Three days after he walked free I found her," tears started to fall down his cheeks now, "in the bedroom, a plastic bag tied around her head."

Alex swallowed as the man's words made her feel so sad and churned up inside. It brought home to her how justice was not always served and sometimes life could be terribly, horribly unfair.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly, "I really am. You're right… you're right, this has all been so unfair and should never have happened."

"Should never have happened is right," the man cried, "she never wanted to bloody testify! Never wanted to stand up in court! Knew what was going to happen, she did. But they pushed and pushed until she just gave in and agreed to do it. And now what? My wife has gone forever, because they needed their conviction and wouldn't listen to a woman who said she was too scared and too ill to cope."

"Your wife won't thank you for ending up inside instead of him though," Gene spoke up, "and if you carry on like this that's where you'll be heading."

"I've got nothing left to live for out here," the man told him, "so what have I got to lose?"

"This isn't the way to get your point across," Alex said calmly, taking a cautious step forward, "if you carry on this way you're going to end up in prison where you won't be able to do a thing. But if you take this through the proper channels –"

"Fuck the proper channels!"

"- then you can find those who were responsible for pressurising your wife into making choices she was uncomfortable with," Alex continued, "you can ask for a full enquiry. I'll even help you." She watched the man carefully as she stepped forward again. He was so full of nerves that he couldn't stop shaking. He wanted to be holding a gun even less than his wife had wanted to take the stand. "If you hand over the gun right now then things will work in your favour – you've caused no harm. You've caused no damage –"

"Except for that window he shot out up there," Gene commented unnecessarily, receiving a slightly cross glance from Alex.

"- and they will understand you were pushed to the limit by the loss of your wife. You'll probably receive a suspended sentence, or maybe charges won't be pressed, but if you carry on this way then you'll be spending time in prison and you'll have no chance of raising the profile of your wife's plight."

"The news will be all over this," the man said.

"Covering the story of how a madman burst into a police station's car park with a rifle, not covering how police pressure led to your wife's suicide," Alex told him in calm measured tones. She took another step forward. "I can help you, but you have to put the gun down first."

The man looked at her, then at the rest of the gathered crowd.

"If I put the gun down you'll all pounce on me," he said.

"No," Alex shook her head, "give me the gun and we'll walk inside quietly and talk about this properly." She started to reach toward him, "we can't help you while you're standing there with a weapon. Let me take it and we can talk."

He was tired. He was so _very_ tired. He hadn't slept in weeks, not since he lost his wife. He had no strength, mentally or physically, left in him. His last ditch attempt at getting some sort of vague justice had been ill-thought out and now he was here he didn't really know what to do. What options did he have – standing there, shouting the odds all day with the old rifle his grandfather had passed down through the family? Or open fire and kill a bunch of innocent people? Neither seemed like very good options.

He looked at Alex. Her voice was soothing; her manner calm. He felt his hands shaking and lowering, the gun no longer aimed up high.

"That's it," she said quietly, "that's right. Just hand it over gently and then you can explain what happened to your wife."

She took one more step forward and held out her hands, watching as the gun shakily moved towards them but a sudden cry stopped everything as Keats' voice rang out to shake him up;

"_Hey - They've got guns trained on you!"_

The man froze, then spun around to the direction the voice had come from and panicked as Keats grasped Lindsay and gave her a hard shove in the direction of the gunman. The sight of the movement shocked him into action and he fired without thinking. Almost as soon as he realised what he'd done a second wave of panic set in and he took flight, his legs carrying him at the fastest speed he could manage on his trembling legs. Hew barrelled straight into Alex, thrusting the gun into her hands and knocking her to the ground in a flurry of activity as officers who'd been on standby swooped upon the man.

For a moment no one was sure where to look or what to do but a single cry that rang out from Simon brought the attention of all to Lindsay as she lay on the ground, a hole in her chest and blood slowly seeping through her clothes.

"_Shit – Lindsay…"_ he couldn't say anything more, or to move, or to do a thing. He was frozen to the spot, struck dumb and still by the image. From the corner of his eye he saw a gloating smile from Keats as the man began to encroach upon her, her soul ripe for the taking. Her life was ebbing away, Simon was in panic mode and Keats could almost taste her essence. For a moment the world seemed to stand still, and yet by the same standard it flowed and contorted at a greater pace than ever. There was a decision to be made and action to be taken as a whirlwind of life and death flowed around them.

For some, this was make or break time. For others, the end of the road. But for everyone the world was about to change in the most dramatic fashion.


	37. Chapter 36: Where Are You?

**Chapter 36**

Staring at Lindsay's failing body as she lay on the ground, Simon panicked. He froze on the spot, unsure what to do. He felt a pull to her, his instincts were telling him one thing but his head was telling him another. He'd been transferred, he'd been demoted, he couldn't –

"Oi, Shoe-Face, what the bleedin' hell do you think you're doing?" Gene's angry voice didn't seem to doubt what Simon should be doing, "help that woman before DCI _Arse-Brain_ sends her to the bottom of the toaster!"

Simon seemed to come round from a slight daze, enough to see Keats sink to the ground and slide his hands under her head. He swallowed, his hands shaking as he looked from Keats to Gene.

"But… but the transfer… he _demoted_ me…"

"That girl needs you," Gene barked.

Simon felt hot and sick, unsure what to do. Why wasn't _Gene_ heading to her rescue? He could do it as well as anyone. He knew Simon was no longer part of the station, he couldn't do this any more, so why -?

Fort a moment he thought he was mistaken. He thought Gene was heading to Lindsay's aid after all as he started to dive in her direction but he had a more pressing course of action to carry out as he grasped Keats by the shoulders and dragged him to his feet instead.

"Leave that girl alone!" he growled as he pulled him away from Lindsay and as far away as possible. There was a look of such anger and venom in Gene's eyes as he stared at Keats, every evil thing he'd done coming back to him. By and large he tried to keep his cool but the thought he deserved this one. "Got a long overdue present for you, Jimbo," he said as he grasped his shoulder with one hand and sent a flying punch to his face with the other.

Simon flinched as he watched Keats fall to the ground, whimpering like a bloody idiot while Gene shook his sore fist and rubbed his knuckles. He looked back at Simon and cried, "What are you waiting for, Shoebury?"

Simon looked back at Lindsay, fading fast. No one was rushing to her aid – that was one of the strange things about Gene's world. When it was someone's time to go then no one interfered. No one rushed up with a first aid kit or called for an ambulance before they passed. There was a method, an order to life, and it was never broken.

He shook and trembled as he slowly sank to his knees beside her. He still felt torn, he knew that there was a risk he would be sending her the wrong way – he was a part of Fenchurch West now, wasn't he? But at the same time he couldn't fight the urge to help her move on. It didn't feel bad. It didn't feel malevolent. It felt peaceful and warm; loving, caring. _Gentle_.

He scooped her head into his lap and stared at her face; the bright eyes and cheeky smile had faded away and been replaced by pain and fear but as he held her those feelings dissipated and started to give way to comfort.

"_Shhhhh,"_ he whispered as she whimpered gently, "Linds, it's OK. I'm here." There was a lump in his throat – this was so hard to do. He remembered the first time, when he helped Susannah to pass on – he hated the feeling and resented the obligation he'd been given, but finally things were starting to make more sense to him. The look in her eyes; the trust and the peace as he spoke to her, it made him see that what they did was right. "This seems so unfair," he said quietly as one hand stroked her flame-coloured hair, "it feels like you barely had time to start again. But the time you've spent here… you brought sunshine and warmth to this place. Your smile is contagious." He saw a flicker of one cross her face before it seemed to fade and her eyes started to close. "That's it, Lindsay," he whispered as his arms started to tingle and the energy began to build, "close your eyes; let go, sweetheart. It's time to rest now."

As her last breath left her body and a whisper of a word moved around them in the air Simon closed his eyes and dropped his head over her body as it grew heavy and limp in his arms. How could someone so bright and full of life fade away so fast? He shook his head slowly as the lump in his throat threatened to turn into an angry sob but looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Well done, Simon."

Simon looked up, his eyes glistening with unformed tears. Gene stood there beside him, serious and sad. He nodded to him as his eyes turned back to Lindsay.

"What have I done, Gene?" he whispered, "have…. Have I sent her the wrong way?"

"No," Gene said firmly, "no, you haven't."

"But I transferred, and he took my title," Simon couldn't understand what was going on, "so how –"

They both looked up as a slightly punch-drunk Keats staggered beside them, his head spinning from the blows he'd taken to the head from both Simon and Gene. His face was filled with fury and with spite. He could hardly contain his bile.

"What do I have to do, Simon, hmm?" he spat as he staggered from side to side, "why can't I uproot you from this retched place?"

Gene folded his arms and took a step towards Keats.

"You can take the boy out of Fenchurch East," he began, "but you can't take –"

"Yeah, I got it, I don't need you paraphrasing," Keats spat. He was almost cross-eyed with anger and concussion by now. He could hardly focus or stay upright but he knew full well how angry he was. He stared at Lindsay on the ground in Simon's arms. Her soul would have been such a delight to take, it would have given him such a high. His blood boiled over and his eyes of fury focused on Simon. "Fucking golden boy," he literally spat at him and turned to walk away, swaying from side to side. He was getting a little double vision by now.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the scene before he left the grounds and took one last look as Gene knelt beside Simon, offering him some words of wisdom. He felt anger bubbling inside of him. What the hell made Simon so special? How, despite everything – his betrayal of Fenchurch East, his transfer, his demotion… he still hadn't 'left'. Why were his feet so firmly planted in the station? Why was his influence there so strong? He'd been there for less than a year and yet his transfer brought the stars out to play. Something was different about Simon. He'd long suspected that. Now he felt like he knew it for certain, even though he didn't know what or why.

He stared at them again. There was something there in the back of his mind. Something that seemed ludicrous but the thought wouldn't go away. He knew little of Simon's past, focusing instead on the anger he felt towards him in the here and now. Maybe it was time to dig a little deeper.

For now though, he knew his fun was over, which he acknowledged with a bitter cry. He'd lost Simon from his station and from his bed. It was time to file the last few days away in his memory and leave them behind, move on to the next thing, the next plan, the next phase – if he let himself dwell for too long he'd blow up with fury. Better to shove it out of his mind and concentrate on the next thing.

There was digging to be done.

~xXx~

As the ambulance arrived and Simon gently handed Lindsay's body over for them to take away Gene looked around with a look of confusion on his face.

"Bolly?" he said.

Simon rubbed his eyes with his sleeve as he stood up, trying to ignore the blood on his clothes.

"What?" he said quietly.

Gene's eyes scanned the car park for Alex. There was so much chaos around them that he couldn't even start to make sense of the sea of bodies. There were forensics, paramedics, uniform and detectives alike swarming the place.

"Where did she go?"

"Who?"

"_Bolly!_ Who do you think? Cherie Blair?"

Simon ignored Gene's sarcasm and started to look around.

"Oh, I think she took the gun or something," he said with a sigh, "she's probably had to give her own statement of what happened. Maybe she's inside."

"Why the bloody hell didn't she tell me first?" Gene put his hands on his hips and surveyed the scene, "god, look at the state of this place. Right bloody mess. All because some idiot plod wouldn't take no for an answer."

Simon breathed in deeply. His hands were still tingling and his heart still racing from helping Lindsay to move on. He felt strange and woozy. Would he ever really get used to this?

"Can we go inside?" he asked quietly, "I want to wash my hands." The blood staining them brought back every moment of the day, "and I want to raid your scotch."

"Refreshments no good at Fenchurch West?" Gene asked, raising an eyebrow.

Simon looked down.

"My job here…" he began. Gene ended his query with two words.

"Still yours," he said.

Simon nodded slowly.

"Thanks," he whispered.

Gene put one hand on Simon's shoulder and forcibly spun him towards the entrance of the station.

"Go and pour yourself a large one," he said, "in fact, make it two. I'll be up when I've given Bolly a bollocking for buggering off."

"You won't be able to say _that_ tongue twister when you've had one," Simon commented.

~xXx~

Sitting in Gene's office, everything felt quiet and peaceful. It felt like Simon was in the middle of the eye of the storm. All around the building there was chaos; myriad statements to take, procedures to check and questions to ask. There, safely ensconced within the four walls with a glass of scotch in front of him, Simon could just about block everything out. Lindsay, Keats, the tape –

_Shit, the tape_. With everything that happened in the car park he'd almost managed to forget about it. The things he'd seen had affected him deeply in so many ways; seeing Robin again, watching how he had changed back in the real world, the strange glimpse of the future that made him feel certain he was on his way back soon. He couldn't quite take it all in.

The scotch helped as he took a long gulp and the door behind him opened.

"No bloody sign of her," Gene's anxious voice came from behind him. Simon glanced around.

"Of Alex?" he asked as Gene headed to his desk and picked up the phone.

"Tried everywhere," he said, "her office, uniform, the cells, even made the woman with the fat arse from the canteen check the ladies' – no sign anywhere." He waited for several moments but his call wasn't answered. "Not at home, either."

"Well she'd got to be somewhere," Simon told him, pushing the second scotch towards him, "someone must know where she is – she must have been giving a statement by now. I saw that gun crazed loony pushing the gun into her hands – she must have had to do that when she handed it over."

"She never handed it over," said Gene, "they found the gun in the car park."

Simon frowned.

"What?"

"Already checked about that, first thing I did." Gene's brow furrowed with anxiety. "so where the bloody hell did she go?"

"Did she leave the grounds?" Simon asked, "After being shot in the head… twice… maybe the gun freaked her out and she needed to get away for a while?"

"Well where would she go?"

"Did you try Latte Land?"

Gene sighed.

"We're looking for Alex Drake, not Gene Hunt," he said. He paused and blushed. "besides, I already, err, checked there," he hiccupped and felt the three lattes slosh in his gut. "No, she's got to be somewhere here…"

"Check the CCTV footage from the car park," said Simon.

Gene snapped his fingers.

"So yer brain didn't completely rot away over in the West," he said.

~xXx~

It took twenty minutes to track down who had the tapes. They'd changed hands so many times in the last hour that they ended up on a wild goose chase for some time before they found out they'd been sent up to CID for examination anyway.

"Bloody hell, if I wanted to go on a bloody power walk I'd be wearing green lycra right now," Gene commented as he picked up the tapes. He found the one that had the best shot of the area Alex had been standing in and pushed it into the video in his office. He sat down heavily with the remote in his hand and started to fast forward to the part where the shot had been fired. Simon flinched as he watched Lindsay falling again and shook his head slowly. The self-blame had started to creep in. he knew if it wasn't for his dalliance with Keats he would never have left Fenchurch East and Keats wouldn't have come sniffing around, picking off the best ones from the station. Or would he have done that anyway? Knowing Keats it didn't seem unreasonable to assume it would have happened sooner or later. But the timing probably wouldn't have coincided with a madman in the car park.

"There she is," he said quietly to distract himself from his thoughts, trying to focus on the grainy image of Alex rather than of Lindsay.

They watched the scene as the gunman panicked and thrust the gun into Alex's hands, knocking her over as he tried to flee. Gene hadn't seen Alex taking a tumble and a bolt of panic shot through his heart.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled, his eyes opening a little wider. He swallowed and moved a little closer to the screen as he watched Alex land against the hard tarmac, her face crumbling up with pain as she landed. The two men stared in silence as the next few seconds brought to them the last thing they had expected and they both froze in shock.

"No," Simon shook his head slowly, "that's got to be a glitch."

Gene stayed silent as he rewound the tape and watched the same few seconds again, but the exact same thing happened.

"Not bloody possible," he mumbled under his breath as he ejected the tape and slipped a different one into the machine, watching the scene from a different angle. He sped the tape up to the right part then watched in silence, but the same thing happened. He rewound again and again, until finally Simon put his own hand over Gene's and said, "Stop it, it's not going to change."

But Gene shook him away crossly and watched one last time as Alex fell to the ground, her face filled with pain, before she clutched her stomach and turned her head up to the sky as though something was beckoning her, pulling her away. Her eyes closed and her head tipped backwards as she tried to cry out, but a split second later she was gone.

Vanished into thin air.

No sign of her.

"Gene…" Simon swallowed as Gene rewound the tape again.

"it's not possible, Simon," he said stiffly, "it's not bloody possible…"

"Gene, stop," Simon said firmly as he switched off the screen.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Gene cried.

"Gene," Simon's hands held his shoulders fast, "it doesn't matter how many times you watch it, the same thing's going to happen." He swallowed and tried not to shake as he whispered, "she's… she's gone, Gene. You saw for yourself. She's gone."

"Bollocks she is," Gene muttered, shrugging Simon's hands away and getting to his feet. He turned and marched from the office to check the building again, but deep down he knew he could walk the corridors forever and never find her. They'd both seen it for themselves; her vanishing into thin air. Fading quickly into nothing. Leaving the world as that final blow weakened her 1996 body too much and the pull from home became too strong.

He couldn't believe it and he _wouldn't_ believe it. Bolly wouldn't leave him. She never would. She had to be there, somewhere. _Had_ to be.

Because the alternative – a world without her – was not a world Gene wanted to be a part of.

And without Gene, what would the world become?

**~xXx~ The End ~xXx~**

_**A/N – Noooooooooo, please don't kill me! I'm sorry, I know, I know…. It's not like I'm actually leaving it there! There is an epilogue tomorrow and then on New Year's Day (fittingly, since that's when Alex woke up in Whispering) a new story begins that continues the thread and knits up this timeline with the one I've been writing separately on FictionPress with Kim and Robin's independent adventures (there's actually been a third in the sequence called 'Strange and Beautiful' which I forgot to mention… oops… there's a link on my profile here.)**_

_**I'm going to go and hide from Oceancounty now because I fear she's going to come looking for me with a big stick! :D**_


	38. Epilogue: Eyes of Blue

**Epilogue**

Gene poured himself another scotch and rubbed his temples. It was dark outside now but he was still at his desk. He didn't see much point being anywhere else. There was no reason to go home. Not any more.

"Gene?"

Gene heard the voice but he didn't bother looking up. It wasn't the voice he wanted to hear so there didn't seem much point.

"I'm busy," he said flatly, ignoring Simon as he shuffled into the office.

"Busy doing what?"

Gene took a large gulp and examined his glass.

"Drinking," he said.

Simon sighed and paced towards him. He leaned across the desk and said,

"Go home, Gene. Get some sleep."

"Not in the mood," Gene mumbled.

"You haven't slept in three days."

"Not true," Gene lifted his glass again, "I passed out for three hours yesterday."

Simon sighed and gabbed the glass from his hand before he could top up his blood alcohol levels any further.

"This isn't doing you any good," he said.

"Neither's listening to you," Gene mumbled.

Simon set the glass down out of Gene's reach and sat down opposite him. It had been three days now. Three days since Alex disappeared in the middle of the car park. In the aftermath of her vanishing Gene had initially refused to believe the tapes. He'd searched the station up and down, all day long, and waited all night for her to suddenly come home and explain her disappearance in some annoyingly logical tone. When there was still no sign of her by the next day he'd started clinging to a vague hope that, like Sam Tyler, she would return to his world but Sam's return had been immediate and almost a day had already passed.

The more time went by, the more Gene began to realise that there was no changing the facts and no turning back the clock. Watching the tapes over and over only served to drill into him how very real her vanishing was.

The warnings had all been there – the passing out, the voices from 2011, even the Super had seen her fade. He'd warned Gene how precarious her position was in that world, how she was unique in being a very real, physical presence in both 1996 and 2011. But the pregnancy had placed an enormous strain on her body and drained her energy while her 2011 body had been slowly growing stronger after the surgery she'd undergone. Even though she'd tried to look after herself and her baby – tried to take in more food and get more sleep, rest a little more and so on – she was still teetering on the edge and that last knock had been more than her body could take.

He'd watched that same clip over and over; the agony on her face as she dropped to the ground, her hand clinging to her belly – by itself it would have been no more than a simple accident perhaps gaining her no more than a bruise on the bottom, but in her condition, with her physical presence so much at risk, it was more than her body could take.

And so, she faded.

"Go home, Gene," Simon told him. He couldn't fight his worries for the man. He thought Gene was low when the wrong Alex had been inhabiting his Bolly's body, but he'd never seen him like this before. At least last time they had something to work towards – bringing back their own Alex. This time there was no body for her to return into. No Alex, no hope.

"I'm not going back to that empty Bolly-box," Gene mumbled. The thought of being in the flat without her was too hard to cope with.

"Alright," Simon got to his feet, "you are cordially invited to spend the night in the company of my sofa."

"I never got the kinks out me back from the last time I slept on that," Gene muttered.

Simon grabbed Gene's coat and held it out to him.

"Come on. You can't stay here forever, Gene."

Gene didn't see why not, and he didn't see the point of going to Simon's since he knew he wouldn't sleep, but then again he didn't have the energy to argue either. Never once meeting Simon's stare he got to his feet, grabbed his coat from Simon's grasp and marched to the door, the lights switching out behind him as he did so.

"You'd better have a more respectable collection of alcoholic beverages than the last time I kipped on yer couch," he mumbled.

He didn't say a word on the way back to Simon's. There was nothing to say. Alex had brought Gene to life and now she was gone he felt dead inside. His blue eyes turned to a dull grey, his skin followed suit and he couldn't see the point in anything any more.

One minute he had everything. The next, all he had was an empty bed and a wardrobe full of clothes that reminded him of the woman he was never going to see again and a life that had faded before his very eyes.

~xXx~

Keats adjusted his glasses as he flipped to another page. There was nothing, nothing of any use anyway. This wasn't what he was looking for.

"Shit," he threw Simon's file to the ground and picked up the phone book instead. He flicked through a number of pages until he got to 'S' and kept on turning until he found the right name. Beside it was a number and an address, the latter of which he underlined so that he wouldn't lose it. The corners of his mouth flickered into a smile and he picked up the phone and dialled through to an extension in the station.

"Yeah," he began, running his finger along the line in the phone book, "I need a complete background check on a family in Holly Row. Yes, number seventeen. Family name of Shoebury… everything you can get your hands on. No, going back as far as you can. …Hmm?" he smiled. "Nice one. Cheers."

He set down the phone and leaned back in his chair, a smirk across his face.

"Whatever it is, Simon, I'll find it. Whatever made you the chosen one, I'm going to dig it up."

The thought buoyed him inside. He might have lost his latest pet project but knew another would be along in good time, There was always another one. Kim, Alex, Simon – someone would be waiting in the wings. And in the meanwhile, whatever secrets lurked in Simon's past would soon be out on the open – Keats would make absolutely sure of that.

~xXx~

She felt herself breathing in. That was the strangest thing. The first thing she remembered wasn't the voices or the pain, it was the feeling of air in her nostrils as she breathed in deeply. There was a steady beeping and a murmuring of voices around her. Where the hell was she now?

She tried to piece together the last events she could recall. There was a man with a gun; she'd been trying to talk him round and for a moment she thought she'd succeeded but then someone shouted… bloody Keats, wasn't it?

There was a shot, and then the next thing she remembered there was a gun in her arms and someone slammed into her body, hard…

She landed, and oh _god_, she landed hard. The pain shot through her; it radiated through her body but the place she felt it the strongest was her stomach. Her baby – oh _god,_ her baby, was it….

She tried to reach down to her belly to feel the curve and make sure everything was alright but she couldn't move. Her arms were paralysed. In fact, so was her whole body. She struggled desperately but she couldn't move a finger. What the hell had happened? Her fall couldn't have been that hard, could it? She couldn't have been paralysed?

There were voices around her now, swirling in and out. She couldn't quite make sense of them so she tried to go back to remembering. There was the pain… god, she remembered the pain… and then a bright light. It felt like it came from somewhere above her but when she looked up there was nothing there. It was coming from inside of her… inside her head. She'd felt herself rising, floating –

And then…

Then, _this_. Whatever '_this'_ actually _was_.

She tried to open her eyes and a blurry room started to come into focus but her eyelids felt so heavy that they closed again and again. Oh god, why was she so tired?

"Alex?" a soothing voice began to talk to her, "Welcome back, Alex. You made it."

She tried to focus on the face above her but it resembled a blob. Why couldn't she focus? What the hell was going on? There had to be some kind of logical explanation. Surely there was.

"You had an accident," the voice told her, "a car accident."

If Alex had been able to move she would surely have frozen. As it was her eyes opened as wide as she could open them and her heart began to race.

"You were in a crash and you were taken to hospital, unconscious. It's taken several months for you to regain consciousness. There was a small bleed putting pressure on your brain but when that was relieved you started to recover well, and now you're back with us."

A little more of the looming face came into focus, a kindly young female doctor smiled at her as she explained to Alex more of the situation. "The medication will wear off within the next couple of days but until then you will be unable to move. Don't worry, this is normal. As the effects of the medication fade we'll be able to assess your level of motility and work out how best to help you on the road to recovery."

She stepped back and vanished from her field of vision as Alex's mind raced and she felt her eyes start filling with tears.

"We're about to let your daughter and friends know the good news. They'll be allowed to visit you shortly." She paused as she filled in something on a chart – Alex could hear the scribbling of a pen – then said, "Well done, Alex. You're a survivor."

As she heard the footsteps of the doctor leaving the rom the little vision she had clouded with tears which started to roll down her face.

_This wasn't what I wanted. This wasn't what I wanted at all._

She was back in 2011, back in the real world, a place she'd left behind. She'd already made her choice – did that count for nothing?

_Gene… I want Gene… Oh god, I'm never going to see him again…_

With one body growing weaker and the other strengthening daily, one shove to the ground tipped the scales. One life lost and another returned, but this wasn't the life she wanted.

_I want to go home. This isn't my home._

_Not any more._

_Not for a long time._

_Oh god, Gene – I'm sorry…_

_I'm so sorry…_

As her eyes closed and silent tears ran like a stream she made a wish that no one would hear. There was only one thing she wanted, and it was an impossibility. To go home. To get back to Gene, get back to her life and her station and her job.

But 2011 wrapped around her like a prison.

_Appreciate all that you have… because it can disappear in a heartbeat._

_Just like it did for me._

**~xXx~ …To Be Continued… ~xXx~**

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: I'm not usually one to get sentimental about the new year but I am feeling a little emotional that the end of this story has coincided with New Year's Eve because writing has become very important to me this year and I wanted to say a huge thank you to all of you who have been reading these fics, reviewed them, favourite them and chatted about them – I have really appreciated your words of encouragement and all the laughs that have gone alongside it :)**_

_**Last night I was looking back at the fics I've written this year and staring at my half-faded keyboard of a laptop I've only had since July and just thinking about how glad I am that A2A finally conquered my writer's block. The latter half of this year has been really hard and stressful and I think I would have gone crazy if it hadn't been for writing.**_

_**I'm especially grateful for meeting Oceancounty and Morgana through FFnet this year (even though I have been threatened with big sticks!) – you've helped to keep me sane(ish… as sane as I ever get…) through some really stressful months and I'm so glad that I've met you both. Thanks for all the fishy biscuits :)**_

_**So, so many thank-yous to everyone who has read and reviewed this and all my other stories, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're still reading and enjoying them – with special thanks to Oceancounty, MorganaNK, Fenella Church, sash queen of the jungle, rantandrumour and sillygenie for the reviews, and to Noemi and Charlotte on FB for all the chat and speculation too :)**_

_**Now, PUT DOWN THE STICKS! There will be a sequel starting tomorrow that picks up both from this story and Kim and Robin's 3rd solo adventure which has just concluded as well, as 1996 and 2011 collide. I'm planning to write it in alternate chapters for the most part in the style of Whispering Her Name, and please, please remember my philosophy – I can be as mean as I like to the characters as long as I put things right in the end!**_

_**It just remains for me to wish you a very happy new year and a wonderful 2012**__**– and lay off the dolphin nosed potatoes! x x x**_


End file.
